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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24279475">Command</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/menin_aeide/pseuds/menin_aeide'>menin_aeide</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Seventh Knight [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars Sequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>And then things get complicated because I can't write pure smut to save my life, Angst, BDSM, Dom/sub, Dominant Kylo Ren, M/M, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Much despite himself, No Incest, Non-Consensual, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Past Relationship(s), Past Violence, Possessive Kylo Ren, Psychological Porn, Self-Harm, Submissive Armitage Hux, Suicide Attempt, TROS what TROS?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 01:07:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>34,603</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24279475</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/menin_aeide/pseuds/menin_aeide</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Order has fallen, the Resistance is over, Snoke and Palpatine and most of the Order command are dead, and Kylo Ren is the undisputed sole ruler of the galaxy. He needs someone to help with the actual work of governing, though - pity Hux is a traitor who has repeatedly tried to kill him. </p><p>And yet...</p><p>He wants to command Hux. To truly command him – his loyalty and his skills, but also his emotions. His devotion. He wants the General to belong to him and know that he is truly <i>owned</i>.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Seventh Knight [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1787461</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>178</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>330</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Ok - so this time, this is going to be essentially shameless smut with little to no plot, and probably rather shorter than usual. Because power dynamics played out in the mind are my thing, and these two characters are practically begging for it. </p><p>Comments are always incredibly welcome.</p><p>EDITED TO ADD: Obviously, the above has turned out to be rubbish. I am crap at writing pure smut, and these two keep snarking at each other and being complex human beings. So, still smutty, but also characterisation and motivations and backstory and all that sort of thing. Sorry - I did try.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The problem with mind reading, and with mind control in general, is that it is much harder, more painful and unpleasant, than most Force users would have the rest of the universe believe. In the best-case scenario, the subject is weak-minded, which makes the breach easier, but inevitably leaves a nasty aftertaste in the Force user’s mind. In the worst-case scenario, the subject is strong and able to resist, and the results are often rather meagre, fragmented and confused, unless a prolonged, in-depth scan is carried out. And <em>that </em>is always a nightmarish experience for both parties.</p><p>Even an experienced, powerful telepath like Kylo Ren doesn’t use his abilities to the fullest on a regular basis. He does register the emotional temperature of those around him, of course, specially if feelings are running high. But that’s easy: people often mentally scream out their thoughts and emotions, completely unawares, and he often reads them by default, without even noticing. He remembers how he picked up FN-2187’s anomalous reaction on Tuanul, and still kicks himself at not having realised, then, just what consequences it could have. But delving into others’ minds to find specific information, or to take over their decision-making processes, is something that he’d rather avoid if he can. Too much effort.</p><p>He has, after all, other powerful ways to find out people’s intentions and bend them to his will. Particularly now that the Resistance is gone, Snoke and the Emperor are dead, and he rules the galaxy as the undisputed Supreme Leader or whatever he decides to call himself.</p><p>Which is why he has summoned Lieutenant Mitaka to the Throne Room. And the effect on the officer is, apparently, just the one he had intended.</p><p>“My lord,” murmurs Mitaka, dropping to one knee before the dais. Ren doesn’t even have to skim the surface of his mind to feel the fear throbbing in him. It’s visible: his shaking hands, the sweat running down his forehead. His covert, horrified glances at the figure hovering next to the throne.</p><p>And no wonder. Mitaka had been General Hux’s most trusted man, after Orpan the assassin, who has been duly dispatched now as far too dangerous. Mitaka, however, might have his uses, and Ren is ultimately loth to condemn a man just because of his loyalty. He needs to find, however, which way he’s going to go. And people are much easier to read when provoked.</p><p>His reaction, so far, is being quite satisfactory. He is cowering, both physically and mentally, before Ren’s louring, imposing presence.</p><p>“Suspended animation,” says Ren. Referring to the elephant in the room. “Similar to a bacta tank, only his vital signs are so low that they can only be monitored by extremely sensitive devices – and by Force users, of course. Essentially, I’ve placed him in an extremely deep trance. But don’t fret – he’s still alive, Lieutenant.”</p><p>He looks up, tacitly giving Mitaka permission to stare too.</p><p>The man who had, until a few weeks ago, been Mitaka’s superior and one of the most powerful figures in the First Order, is now floating upright, eyes closed, in some sort of pinkish gel that fills the tank hovering in the air, a couple of metres away from Ren’s head.</p><p>He’s completely naked.</p><p>Mitaka is utterly shocked: having been used to the General’s deliberately intimidating persona, enhancing the First Order’s sharp tailoring with his own armour-like aesthetics – that greatcoat, those black leather boots – his current extreme vulnerability, his sheer <em>nakedness</em> in every respect, must have been inconceivable.</p><p>Ren leans forward, mentally, curious as to how Mitaka will react to the shock. Anger? Satisfaction? Guilt?</p><p>Mitaka's emotional reading is – interesting. There is the pervasive fear of what is going to happen to him, of course – what Ren will do to him. But there is also sadness, a profound sadness. This is a man he deeply admired, even hero-worshipped. Seeing him so reduced pains Mitaka to the core. There is also regret that he was unable to help the General, in some way. Pity. Shame on Hux’s behalf.</p><p>And also, running beneath all this, Ren detects a faint current of desire – long-lasting, unrequited desire, with no expectation of reciprocity. He smiles inwardly. Apparently, Mitaka has been infatuated with his superior for quite a long time, a fact that he seems to have thoroughly concealed from the General.</p><p>He glances up at the pale, wiry body – muscles like cords steeped in milk, fine coppery hair, the delicate pink of the flaccid penis – then back at Mitaka.</p><p>“Will – will he be executed, my lord?”</p><p>Ren raises an eyebrow. It’s clear that that is something that Mitaka would give anything to avoid. Including – it seems – laying down his own life for the General’s. <em>And there’s his loyalty. </em></p><p>“Do you think he deserves death, Lieutenant?”</p><p>Mitaka swallows visibly. Then, trying to restrain the tremor in his voice: “No, my lord. I don’t think he does.”</p><p>“How so?”</p><p>“He failed. But he was set up. By –“ He hesitates, the good soldier, ever reluctant to defy hierarchy; but ultimately his loyalty to the General wins out. “By Allegiant General Pryde. He and the Final Order’s command resented the General and wanted to get rid of him.”</p><p>Ren listens with extreme focus, both physically and mentally. It’s obvious that Mitaka is telling the truth; at least, what he believes is the truth. He knows nothing of the General’s treason.</p><p><em>Oh, no, Lieutenant. There was no setup, no conspiracy. Your beloved General betrayed the Order to get rid of </em>me.</p><p>But he only leans back on the throne, steepling his fingers before him. “He did fail, though. Repeatedly. First Starkiller, then the <em>Supremacy </em>disaster. Then Crait. And he always resented the fact that I was his co-commander under Supreme Leader Snoke. As you are surely aware of.”</p><p>Mitaka lowers his head, biting his lip. He knows this is true. “I cannot pretend to be able to assess the General’s performance, my lord,” he says. “It is not my place. But I truly believe that executing him would be a grave loss. For the Order –“ He looks up, confused. Like everyone else, he has no idea whatsoever of what Ren is going to do with the First Order, or the Final Order, or whatever it was by the end of the whole sorry mess. “I believe that the General would be a great asset for your rule, my lord. I believe that he would serve you well.”</p><p>Ren almost laughs out loud at the idea of Hux voluntarily <em>serving </em>him in any capacity, but he manages to restrain himself. Because it’s clear that Mitaka is being completely honest.</p><p>“And if he didn’t?” The crucial question.</p><p>Mitaka swallows again, this time more in pain than in fear. Lowers his eyes again. “Then he would deserve death, my lord.”</p><p>
  <em>Ah. </em>
</p><p>Mitaka raises his head and looks straight at Ren, his face still fearful, but open. It’s like reading a book. The lieutenant is intensely loyal to the General, and his loyalty is partly based on his personal feelings, true. But he’s objective enough to leave a margin for doubt, and to place other duties above his own preferences.</p><p>And he acknowledges Ren’s legitimacy, that much is obvious. He fears him, but does not resent him, or feel that he is unworthy of his position. He’s mainly – hopeful that he’ll be able to bring back order to the galaxy. Hopeful that he’ll restore the First Order, or something very similar to it.</p><p>Satisfied that Mitaka poses no threat, he stands up. He’s glad that he can count on his loyalty – his violent urges seem to have been fully exorcised with the killing of Snoke and Palpatine, not to mention most of the Order’s command, and he’s sick of blood and purges. He’s glad he can spare Mitaka.  </p><p>“I will be holding a first meeting with my new command in a few days’ time. I expect to see you there, Lieutenant. You may leave.” Mitaka scrambles to his feet, nods curtly, hardly able to conceal his utter relief. He hurries towards the door, but not without taking one last glance at the hibernating General, then at Ren.</p><p>Ren smiles. <em>No, I’m not telling you, Lieutenant. </em>Then, as Mitaka is about to exit the room: “And send Thanisson in.”</p><p>***</p><p>Having the naked, unconscious General in full display, like a trophy, while he gauges the reactions of those closest to him has been extremely effective in Ren’s cull. The General seems to have been remarkably good at selecting his team – they were all still loyal to Hux, even if not quite to Mitaka’s extent. Perhaps as befitted those in whom the cool General had placed his trust, they were also pragmatic, regretfully accepting his assumed fate, and were willing to pledge their allegiance to Ren as their legitimate superior. But it is clear that they still admire the man, and he will always command their respect.</p><p>Once all the interviews are over, Ren looks up at the floating figure, pondering. After the Order fell and he took over, there was the glaring risk that Hux would try to take advantage of the confusion to overthrow him. Ren couldn’t risk imprisoning him, as the troops might side with their General and release him. So, inspired by Han Solo’s carbonite misadventure, he had secreted Hux away, taking care to suppress all rumours of his alleged betrayal, and placed him in bodily and mental stasis until he decided what to do with him.</p><p>The obvious solution, of course, would have been simply to kill the General. The man had tried to kill him once, for crying out loud, and then had been willing to bring the entire Order down just to thwart Ren’s plans. He was a traitor. Even by Mitaka’s standards, he deserved to die.</p><p>And yet, he had found himself reluctant to kill him. Not only because he was tired of the bloodshed, but because he knew perfectly well that he was unable to rule on his own. He is one of the most powerful Force users in history, true, but the Force doesn’t particularly qualify you for government, as he had realised in those horrible months after he murdered Snoke. He wouldn’t have made it through that time without Hux – who, he had quickly come to realise, far from being the clownish sycophant he had taken him to be, was by far the sharpest, most brilliant strategic mind he had ever come across. It was a pity he had taken Snoke’s description of him as a rabid cur to heart. The General wasn’t a dog. He was a fox.</p><p>And if there is something Ren needs now, it is cunning and patience. Virtues at which he has never excelled.</p><p>He needs Hux – or, more accurately, he needs Hux’s <em>mind</em>. But unfortunately, humans aren’t droids, and he can’t just fiddle with his settings to keep the useful bits and get rid of all that dangerous ambition and hatred.</p><p>Mind control and mind reading won’t help, either. Hux is exceptionally strong-willed, for one, and keeping him on a mental leash would require a constant, painful effort. Besides, Ren doesn’t want a mindless husk – he wants <em>Hux, </em>he realises, proud, temperamental, fiercely intelligent Hux.</p><p>He thinks of the stormtrooper conditioning programme, which was designed by Hux’s father, and which Hux himself was in charge of for some time, perfecting it. It was one of the main reasons for his dazzling ascent up the military hierarchy. Not that it would work on him now, of course, but Ren has often suspected that young Hux must have been his father’s first experimental subject. It’s something he would be keenly interested in finding out, peeling the General’s layers away one by one, stripping him in the same way as he has stripped him of his dignity and consciousness.</p><p>Because, if he’s perfectly honest with himself, it’s not just Hux’s political and military skills that have led him to spare him. He can sympathise with poor Mitaka, because he, too, finds the General intensely desirable – although in a completely different way.</p><p>Truth be told, he had believed Snoke when he said that Hux was a rabid cur because he, Ren, had found it so easy to imagine the General as a dog, rabid or not. <em>His </em>dog, specifically. He wants to have Hux on all fours before him, powerless, grateful, adoring. He wants Hux to <em>serve</em> him, even though the man would probably rather die – or possibly, <em>because</em> he would rather die.</p><p>He wants to command Hux. To truly command him – his loyalty and his skills, but also his emotions. His devotion. He wants the General to belong to him and know that he is truly <em>owned</em>.</p><p>And he knows exactly how to do it.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos! Let's get started, shall we?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Armitage Hux wakes slowly and painfully, feeling as if his entire body had been tenderised with a mallet like some cheap nerf cut.  Which, on reflection, was possibly the case. The last thing he remembers is snapping at that insufferable, pompous git, Pryde. Then turning, and the sudden, scorching heat on his back, which he immediately recognised as a blaster shot. Then a blurry dizziness and the certain knowledge that he was done for, and the raging fury at dying so <em>stupidly. </em></p><p>To add insult to injury, he thinks he remembers Ren crouching in front of him at one point, his ridiculous mask hovering in front of his face, giving orders. The man wouldn’t even let him <em>die</em> in peace.</p><p>So he’s obviously kept him alive for some reason, if he’s in the medbay now –</p><p>Only he’s not in the medbay. He’s lying on a bed. A humongous bed, with black and dark grey sheets. He knows this bedlinen – he has glimpsed it often enough from the main room, through the ajar door, while suffering one of Ren’s – sorry, the <em>Supreme Leader’s – </em>rants. Wondering how a grown-up man could still have a moody fifteen-year-old’s tastes in décor.  </p><p>He tries to raise himself, but is unable to. He’s tied down to the bed by his wrists and ankles. Oh, and he’s also stark bollock naked. Although apparently Ren has been considerate enough to throw a thin coverlet over him, just in case he got cold. The implication is that Ren wants to keep him restrained but in good condition for whatever deranged games he intends to play with him. Which, considering his nakedness, will most likely be of a sexual nature.</p><p>
  <em>Fantastic. </em>
</p><p>He takes a few deep breaths, willing himself to keep his head cool. <em>It’s the only hope you have of getting out of this alive. </em></p><p>And then he hears the external door to Ren’s quarters slide open, and he hastily shuts his eyes, feigning sleep.</p><p>“Don’t bother,” comes Ren’s voice from the other room, then the hiss and clatter as he removes his helmet and places it somewhere. “I can tell you’re awake.”</p><p>
  <em>Fucking mind readers. </em>
</p><p>Ren enters the bedroom, and, from Hux’s supine position, he seems to loom larger and more threatening than ever. He smirks.</p><p>“I was going to ask how you’re feeling, but obviously you cannot be that worse for wear if you’re back to your usual scowling.” He takes off his cowl and whatever that long, hanging piece of grungy, metallic-looking fabric is which he wears <em>all the time. </em>It must <em>stink</em> by now.</p><p>“<em>Supreme Leader</em>,” Hux says, practically biting the syllables off. “I take it that this is exactly what it looks like?”</p><p>Ren sits at the edge of the bed, tilting his head. “Depends on what it looks like to you. To me, it looks like I spared your life after your repeated treachery, General.”</p><p>Hux gulps. It's no use arguing with Ren, as he’s well aware of. If anything, it will only bring the blows down sooner. “So I’m here because now you like to conduct your torture in private.”</p><p>“Something like that, yes.” Ren rises from the bed and goes into the en suite bathroom, away from Hux’s line of sight.</p><p>“I see. Could you at least let me know what happened to my crew after…?”</p><p>“After Pryde rightly shot you down as a traitor? You missed plenty, General. Mainly my unquestioned rise to power.” Ren comes out again, drying his hands on a towel. “Your crew members are all right, though. For the most part. We did have to remove Tritt Orpan for security reasons. As I’m sure you’ll understand.”</p><p>Hux does understand – it’s the first thing <em>he </em>would have done, in Ren’s position, getting rid of fanatically lethal Tritt. He feels a pang nonetheless. He can’t say that he was really fond of Tritt, who was essentially his own personal psychopath, inherited from his father. He had been a fantastic lay, though, with that systematic, detached to the point of clinical way he had of reaming his arse that Hux had occasionally needed. He will miss that.</p><p>
  <em>Not for long, probably, though. </em>
</p><p>“Mitaka and Thanisson and the others…?”</p><p>“As I said, they are all fine. They have accepted the new order, and will be joining my command for as long as they remain loyal. I have to say, you did have a knack for selecting talent, General. I was impressed.”</p><p>“I did.” And he allows himself to relax slightly, knowing – and Ren has no reason to lie to him about this – that his crew are alive and well. At least he didn’t drag them down with him. “The cream of the crop. I take it they all believe me dead. Or am I to be made a public example of, at some point?”</p><p>“You have already been very useful in that respect, General.” Ren leans forward and whisks the coverlet away, revealing Hux’s naked body. “<em>This</em> was quite handy in establishing their loyalties.”</p><p>Hux gapes at him in horror. <em>He cannot mean…</em></p><p>“Oh, yes. They all have witnessed exactly how low their beloved General has been brought.” Ren leans closer to Hux, and, bringing his mouth close to his ear, adds: “And it won’t be the last object lesson you will be providing.”</p><p>Hux’s face burns with shame. His crew had seen him like this – naked, powerless, subject to Ren’s whims. It’s unbearable. It’s horrifying.</p><p>But even more horrifying is the fact that his nipples are hard, and his cock is undeniably stirring at the mere thought of being displayed and abjectly humiliated in front of his direct subordinates. And the fact that Ren has noticed.</p><p>“You’re going to rape me,” he states flatly. “I hadn’t taken you for a rapist, Ren.”</p><p>“Is it rape if you want it?”</p><p>“You think I want <em>this</em>?” scoffs Hux. “Just because my body reacts doesn’t mean…”</p><p>“The thing, General – and I know you may have a hard time believing it – is that I’m tired of <em>waste. </em>That’s why I spared your crew – they’re competent, they’re loyal, and I want to build an Empire. Properly, this time. It would be extremely stupid to waste valuable resources, particularly after the last battle.” He glances at Hux. “Oh, I forgot, you missed that too. Yes. Appalling devastation, appalling loss of life. Not willing to repeat that any time soon if I can help it. So the good news is, I’m keeping you alive.” He grins wickedly. “The bad news is that I need to ensure your utter, genuine loyalty to me. You have, after all, this irritating habit of stabbing people in the back. Which I intend to break you out of.”</p><p>Hux sneers, trying to conceal his disgust at being accused of treachery. He’s not remotely a betrayer, never has been, but that’s not the point here, now. “I am loyal to those who deserve it, <em>Supreme Leader. </em>You might want to put some thought into that, rather than into <em>adjusting my attitude</em>. Might even be beneficial for your prospective empire.”</p><p>“Enough.” He sits again on the bed, and this time, starts to trail his fingers across Hux’s naked torso, along the sternum, and all the way down his midline, giving Hux goosebumps. “Hairless from the neck down. How unsurprisingly conscientious.”</p><p>Despite himself, Hux reddens. “It’s… hygienic.” Which is a complete lie – he just prefers the augmented feeling of another tongue, or cock, rubbing against his bare skin. But this brute probably has Endor forest growing down there. For a second, the image of a thick tangle of coarse black hair flashes unbidden into his mind.</p><p>Ren snickers. “<em>Hygienic</em>.” He leans forward. “I need to ensure that I can trust you in order to keep you, General. So this is what I’m going to do to you. I’m going to crack that mind of yours open like a nut, and I’m going to bring out every single one of your filthy, depraved fantasies.” His voice is low and dark and feels like the edge of a blade running against Hux’s entrails. “Oh, I know they are there, I could always practically <em>smell </em>them every time you walked past me. And then – well, let’s say I’ll take good care of them. For as long as it takes.”</p><p>Hux blinks in disbelief. “You’re seriously saying that you’re going to <em>fuck</em> me into submission?” He barks out a laugh. “I always knew you were an arrogant prick, <em>Supreme Leader, </em>but this is a low even for you. You think you will turn me into a puddle, worshipping your Supreme Cock? Which, by the way, I’ve seen when we’ve taken a pee at the same time. It’s not <em>that </em>impressive, rumours to the contrary notwithstanding.”</p><p>Ren’s smirk doesn’t waver. “Like most men, you think it’s all down to penis size. It has nothing to do with that, General.” He leans even closer to him, and gently places the tip of his index between his eyebrows. “It’s all about what’s <em>in there</em>. Which I fully intend to extract. And exploit.”</p><p>Suddenly, Hux feels a cold knot of fear in his stomach. Ren is serious about this. And he’s a master of the Force, which means that he can absolutely get into his head and wreck it if he puts his mind to it – the only place where he has felt safe, the only place he has been able to truly call <em>his own</em>, in his entire life. He’d much rather Ren fuck him up his arse and be done with this ridiculousness. “That’s the worst kind of violation, Ren,” he says, and his voice comes out far weaker than he had intended.</p><p>“As I said, it’s not rape if you want it.”</p><p>“I most certainly <em>do not want this</em>, Ren.”</p><p>Ren grabs him by the chin and pins him down against the pillow, utterly helpless, with his black, burning eyes. “By the time I’m done with you, Armitage, you <em>will</em>. Desperately.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Ren changes into his workout outfit – he has booked a training slot. He would much rather stay here and get started with Hux, but these days his schedule is so full that it’s rare he can get a couple of hours to train. Also, he knows that physical assault or indignity will hardly affect Hux – the General has been intensively trained in resisting the usual interrogation techniques. And besides, he’s a man who lives essentially inside his head, who finds it extremely easy to retreat into the fortress of his mind when his body is under siege. So it’s good to leave him to stew in his own thoughts. It will prime him for later.</p><p>The General is still staring at him in horrified disbelief as Ren moves through the room, picks up the coverlet where he had dropped, and covers Hux’s naked body again.</p><p>“I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” Ren says. “You can take a nap if you like. And <em>then</em> we’ll get started.”</p><p>He smirks as he turns away. As if the General would be able to catch a single wink in his absence.</p><p>***</p><p>He comes back to his bedroom to find Hux red in the face and dishevelled with effort. There are bright red burns at his wrists and ankles: he has obviously been trying to free himself.</p><p>“Pointless,” he says as he goes into the bathroom to take a quick shower. “Unless you’ve grown even more slippery than usual.”</p><p>Hux growls at him, then drops his head back on the pillow as he hears Ren step into the shower. When he steps out again, his black hair is slicked back, and he is wearing a soft, dark grey tunic and slacks. He is barefoot.</p><p>“What, no black silk pyjamas? I’m disappointed,” says Hux, valiantly trying to be acerbic.</p><p>“I need to be comfortable for this. It may take a while.”</p><p>Hux swallows unwittingly, which Ren notices. He smiles inwardly – as he had expected, the General is almost in the right place; and all he had to do was stand back and wait.</p><p>He sits again at the edge of the bed; and this time, much to his satisfaction, Hux recoils from his touch. “You will only make it harder for yourself if you resist, General,” he says softly.</p><p>Hux’s unbidden thought comes through as clear as if he had spoken it: <em>I have to. </em></p><p>Ren sighs. “Very well, then.” He reaches out his hand to grab Hux’s face again, but the General tries to turn it away from him. “Am I going to have to call Mitaka over to take notes, General?” he stays in a sterner voice.</p><p>Hux blanches, and Ren grasps his chin, gentle but firm. This is for show, mainly – after weeks in stasis, the humiliation of capture and defeat, of being at his enemy’s mercy, of having been seen by his former subordinates in this pitiful state; not to mention the physical damage (the wounds on Hux’s back and leg are not yet fully healed) – the General is in no condition to even try and withstand Kylo Ren’s mental assault. But Ren needs to establish, from the very beginning, who is master here – including in Hux’s head.</p><p>Ren closes his eyes, and slides easily in, as he had expected, with very little resistance; it feels a bit like pushing open a door that is only slightly stuck. And then he finds himself in the wide, icy expanses of Hux’s mind.</p><p>It is a paradox that all minds are similar, but every mind is different. Ren knows – for he has been trained – how to move through people’s minds in general; but the specifics are always, well, specific to the individual. What he perceives and feels when he goes into someone else’s mind is based on that person’s imagery, their own private mythology. And Hux’s private landscape, here, is bleak.</p><p>It’s not really surprising, given the man’s obsession with self-protection and intimidation, that the outward reaches of his mind should be so harsh and hostile. Taking a look around, Ren thinks he can recognise the desolate, wind-swept plain he is standing on as a composite of several shooting ranges on various remote planets – First Order (and presumably, before that, Academy) training grounds. This is where Hux’s first defences spring into action against any perceived attack – he is only able to go unnoticed because of his use of the Force, and because of Hux’s weakened mental state.</p><p>“Anything interesting so far?” croaks Hux, back in the physical world.</p><p>Ren smiles wryly. “Let’s start with something easy, shall we?”</p><p>He has had the suspicion for a while; so he goes back to that moment, curious to see how it will play out in Hux’s memories.</p><p>And then he finds himself once again the darkness of that room on the <em>Finalizer, </em>alone with the General. As he recalls it, Hux was ranting at him interminably over some minor, easily replaceable piece of equipment that he had broken in a fit of frustrated rage. <em>Here, </em>however, the General is barely managing to restrain himself from saying something truly hurtful to the tiresome, spoilt rich brat he has been saddled with, who thinks nothing of wasting valuable time and resources he has never in his life had to work to get.</p><p>Interesting. The General had seen him, at the very beginning, as essentially an overgrown, dysfunctional child whom he could easily hurt with his vicious tongue. <em>The General had not wanted to hurt him too much.  </em></p><p>Ren smiles to himself. Because this is the moment that changed <em>that</em>.</p><p>Memory-Ren does not even budge or say anything from behind the helmet. But suddenly Memory-Hux is slammed against a wall, and finds himself with his throat in the tight grip of the other man’s black leather glove. Choking.</p><p>Ren concentrates, absorbing Hux’s feelings here. The first, immediate panicked reaction, followed by the awful realisation that he has far, far underestimated Snoke’s protégé.</p><p>And also – at the edge of awareness, but it’s there, clearly – arousal. Intense arousal. When he looks down, Ren realises – as he hadn’t realised then – that Hux is erect.</p><p>“<em>I knew it,</em>” he breathes out, triumphant. And opens his eyes to see Hux open his. Which grow wide when the General realises that Ren is once again tightening his huge hand around his throat.</p><p>“I knew it,” repeats Ren. “All that time I thought I was punishing you, humiliating you, and it turns out you were secretly <em>turned on </em>by it, hmm? How often do you touch yourself thinking about that, General?”</p><p>Hux squeezes his eyes shut, desperately trying to withhold, but the flow of images bursts through at Ren’s summons. The insomniac General, lying in his underwear at night, feverishly bringing himself off by thinking of that hand, that glove, the smell of leather close against his face, the loss of control –</p><p>“Your own belt, too?”</p><p>The black leather looped around his throat, mimicking, the fantasised progression.</p><p>“Go further? But you only had to ask, General.”</p><p>Ren’s other hand has snaked all the way down to Hux’s groin, grazing and teasing. He sees how Hux, before, would fantasise about Ren fucking him up against the wall, mercilessly milking him. Doubly pinned down at throat and hips, doubly restrained. Doubly controlled.</p><p>“<em>No,”</em> cries Hux, who can hardly bear it. He closes his legs, trying to retain a minimum of control, a minimum of dignity. “<em>Please.</em>”</p><p>“Please what, General?”</p><p>“<em>Please.</em>” But even Hux doesn’t know what he’s begging for. Stop. Don’t stop. <em>Please. </em></p><p>But Ren is relentless, holding Hux down by the throat, restricting his airflow, while maddeningly brushing against the tip of his engorged penis, which is now rising, seeking, desperate for friction. It’s unbearable and it’s mortifying and he wants to die of shame and he can’t stand it and he <em>needs release NOW – </em></p><p>“<em>Please, Ren.</em>”</p><p>And suddenly – <em>it stops. </em></p><p>Gone is the hand at his throat, the teasing fingers at his cock. Gone the probing presence in his mind. There is only Ren, sitting in front of him, impassive and distant.  </p><p>“<em>No</em>.” He stands up, leaving Hux open-mouthed and desolate with frustration. “Perhaps next time. If you learn to behave yourself.”</p><p>And he turns his back on Hux, satisfied by the involuntary, needy groan that emerges from the General’s throat. He wants Hux desperate, and wants to cement the thought in his mind that only <em>he, </em>Ren, can give him the release he needs. He’ll be softer, more malleable, tomorrow.</p><p>He leaves the General to the ministrations of his household droids, who will gag him and give him his shots and make him ready for the night. And decides to go for a walk and get some dinner from the canteen. He’s in a cheerful mood tonight.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I do apologise - I said I was going to write pure smut, and I can't stop writing context and dialogue and backstory and all sort of complications. Can't we just have some good old dirty filth? Noooooo, because these two are insufferable and keep talking and getting snarky ALL THE TIME. </p><p>Perhaps something involving gags might work? On BOTH OF THEM?</p><p>P.S. Doesn't matter because they still think. <i>Constantly.</i></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next morning, Hux startles awake in the gloom of the room, panicked by the feel of the gag in his mouth, not remembering at first where he is. Then it comes back to him: how Ren’s droids had taken hold of him as soon as their master was gone, restrained him even further – placing him in a foetal position that they presumably regarded as more conducive to sleep – and dosed him with a number of injections, one of which must have knocked him out straight away.</p><p>He lies awake in the semidarkness, remembering the previous day’s events. How Ren had got into his head with hardly any effort on his part. How he had immediately zoned in on his, Hux’s, reaction to his choking. How he had made Hux <em>beg </em>for this release. And that was only the first time.</p><p>
  <em>This is bad. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>This is very, very bad. </em>
</p><p>Although today he is more rested and will probably be able to put up more up of a fight, the General is in no doubt that Ren will be able to overcome any mental barriers he puts up, finding his way into his deepest, most shameful secrets. Ren is focusing on his sexual fantasies and his sexual reactions, apparently because he seems to think that he will somehow secure Hux’s loyalty by making him addicted to his cum, or something.</p><p>In the past, he would have mocked such hare-brained ideas. But these days, knowing more about the Force and having witnessed first-hand exactly how powerfully destructive it can be, he isn’t so sure.</p><p>Even though Hux has always placed his work first and foremost, he is in no way an ascetic, or a prude. In fact, he has long suspected – for he has never exchanged notes with anyone, obviously – that his libido runs quite high. The fact that he prefers men has never bothered him much; it is common enough in military circles. His <em>other, </em>less mentionable preferences he has found harder to deal with – he would have certainly preferred to tend towards domination, had he been given the option – but one cannot choose the way one’s wired, and, despite his conflicted feelings in this respect, he had dealt with it. On board, there was Tritt, who was both sufficiently trustworthy and sufficiently detached to fuck him as roughly as he required and ask no questions or comment later. And then there had been all his planetside leaves, when he would lose his military uniform and find the type of more intense sessions he craves anonymously.</p><p>It hadn’t been quite enough, but between that and his frequent, intense masturbatory routine he had managed, sort of. Of course, there had been all the fantasies and daydreams that would often cross his mind, but those he couldn’t help, and he had thought they were harmless as long as he kept them under wraps. That is, until a certain mind reader crossed his path.</p><p>The thing is, sexuality <em>is </em>important to him, and he <em>does </em>find Ren attractive in his very specific, twisted way. Which does not mean that he doesn’t find the man completely unbearable and has often fantasised about pushing him out of an airlock.</p><p>(Unfortunately for Hux, this fantasy often morphs into Ren somehow finding his way <em>back </em>into the airlock with the Force and punishing him severely, and in an extremely sexy way, for his crime.)</p><p>And Ren is going to see all this filth that he keeps stored in his head. And somehow, he intends to use that to enslave him, to bind the General to him. Hux would sink his head in his hands and weep, were his wrists not tied to the bedpost.</p><p>He recognises it. He’s afraid. He’s deeply afraid.</p><p>He takes a few deep breaths, the way he has learnt to calm down his anxiety, and tries to think of all the options, like a good strategist would.</p><p>As far as he can see, there are two options. One is to overthrow Ren – although, from the way he speaks, and the time that has apparently elapsed (because Ren has taken care to keep him disoriented, not telling him what date it is) – Ren’s hold on power seems fairly consolidated. The other is to escape.</p><p>In either case, he would need to contact his former subordinates – preferably Mitaka, his most trusted lieutenant. Ren claims that they have all sworn their allegiance to him now, and perhaps it is even true. But even though the likelihood of persuading them to stage a coup on his behalf might be slim, he does think that at least Mitaka would be willing to help his former General escape, out of the old personal loyalty.</p><p>The question, assuming he managed to pull this off, would then be – where in the galaxy would he go to avoid being captured by Ren again? If the situation is remotely similar to what Ren has described, his grip on the former Order is such that the civilised worlds would be out of the question – he would be found out, sooner or later. The only option might be exile in some remote, godforsaken planet, preferably inhabited by a non-human sentient (or non-sentient) population.</p><p>What sort of life would that be, though? A solitary outcast in exile, perpetually fearful of being found, probably forced to keep on the move, unable to settle down anywhere. And what purpose would he serve? Could he live as a smuggler or a moisture farmer after having been General Hux? What would the point be?</p><p><em>And what has the point been so far, General? </em>a small, treacherous voice asks in his head.</p><p>The satisfaction of being part of something greater than himself that he sincerely believed would work for the good of the galaxy, he supposes. And, of course, on a more personal level, being able to prove his worth, his value. Being appreciated and rewarded. (Not that there had been much of that, since Ren came along, though.)</p><p>
  <em>And power?</em>
</p><p>He ponders for a second. For a long time, he would have said that his ultimate goal was to reach the highest position of power possible – if not Supreme Leader (he had never quite thought that would be within his grasp), at least second in command, the Supreme Leader’s most trusted advisor. In the more relevant ways, the actual power behind the throne.</p><p>Hux has never been one for appearances and glory. He has never fantasised about grand ceremonies and public honours. What the General resented about Ren was that he was forced to share real power with him, and the way in which Snoke barefacedly preferred his apprentice, despite all his talk about sharing command, when Hux knew that he was by far the more competent and deserving of them both.</p><p>And look where all his competence and value have led him.</p><p>
  <em>What a fucking mess. </em>
</p><p>For a moment, he allows himself to give in to the wave of despair that is about to overcome him. And cries silently, muffling his sobs in the pillow.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>***</p><p>In the kitchen, Ren busies himself making some coffee as he overhears the echoes of Hux’s thoughts. He doesn’t go into them in a more focused way, because that would take some effort and Hux would immediately notice. But, even though he doesn’t get the specifics, he gets the main gist.</p><p>Hux has realised the hopelessness of his situation, and is in despair.</p><p>Ren takes in a deep breath. He doesn’t enjoy knowing that Hux is suffering. He knows it’s necessary to break him as he needs to be broken, though, and it’s good that it has happened fairly quickly – but then Hux is an intelligent man who doesn’t delude himself, and he has seen clearly that there is no way out for him.</p><p>That is, other than Ren.</p><p>All he needs to do now is make Hux see that. And that it isn’t such a horrible fate after all.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>***</p><p>Ren waits for a while, then starts being noisier, giving Hux time to compose himself, and then walks into the bedroom, holding a mug of coffee.</p><p>“Morning.”</p><p>There is no trace of any weakness in Hux now. He scowls in greeting.</p><p>“I thought you might want some coffee. You take it very black, I think?”</p><p>“I need to use the toilet.”</p><p>“No you don’t.” Ren tilts his head at him. “The droids ensured that last night.”</p><p>Hux purses his lips, and reddens visibly. He can’t remember any of it, but all the possibilities he can think of are – extremely undignified.</p><p><em>Not a good way to start off, </em>worries Ren, seeing Hux’s expression. He places the mug on the bedstand. <em>Let’s toss the man a bone. </em></p><p>“There are no weapons here, and you know there is no possible way you can overpower me, General. And even if you did, my guards are outside. If I untie you, will you behave?”</p><p>Hux’s jaw grows tighter at the word “behave” – as though he were a child, or a pet – but nods silently. Ren leans over and undoes the strap tethering the General, but leaves his cuffs on him.</p><p>“My feet? I would like to be able to stretch my legs properly.”</p><p>Ren considers it, then complies. Hux immediately stretches out in a full-body sprawl, relieved, and gestures imperiously for his coffee, as though Ren were one of his former minions. Amused, he passes the mug to the General.</p><p>“What time is it?” asks Hux. Ren smiles, but says nothing. “I understand that you want to keep me disoriented and so on, Ren, but I was wondering what sort of hours a Supreme Leader keeps. I always took the early shift. You seem pretty… relaxed in your work habits, considering that you are the ruler of the galaxy who is still consolidating his power. What I mean, I suppose, is: shouldn’t you be at work, <em>Supreme Leader</em>?”</p><p>Ren raises an eyebrow. “My habits are my own business. But now that you mention it, yes, I do have duties to fulfil. I have scheduled plenty of time for you later in the day, though. Meanwhile…” He glances around the room. “You will be kept entertained. I have homework for you to do.”</p><p>“Homework,” repeats Hux, flatly.</p><p>Ren sighs. “I have told you what the process is being here, General. You can cooperate and speed it along, or you can resist and make it harder, longer, and more difficult. And the outcome will be the same in any case.”</p><p>“Which is?”</p><p>Ren smiles. “Your complete loyalty to me.” The word he has in mind is <em>devotion, </em>but he doesn’t want to press Hux that much at this point.</p><p>“As I said yesterday, I am loyal to those who deserve it, <em>Supreme Leader.</em>”</p><p>“Yes, well,” says Ren, rising from the bed, “the point is that, during this process, you will come to understand that I deserve everything you can offer me.”</p><p>“And why would that be?”</p><p>Ren suddenly leans forward, bringing his face extremely close to Hux’s. “Because I am going to bring back peace, stability, and prosperity to the galaxy,” he hisses. “And because I am <em>the best fucking thing that ever happened to you</em>, General.”</p><p>He moves back again, leaving Hux so thrown off that, for once, the General is lost for words.</p><p>***</p><p>His homework, he finds out, consists in writing down a detailed report on his sexual history – describing his first experiences, all his sexual encounters and partners, and his sexual fantasies and masturbatory habits.</p><p>“You should find it easy,” says Ren as he leaves. “You were always so keen on writing reports on absolutely everything.”</p><p>Hux stares at the datapad, seething with fury. This is clearly an exercise in self-abasement – what’s the point, if Ren is just going to break into his mind and retrieve the information he wants anyway?</p><p>
  <em>The best fucking thing that ever happened to me.</em>
</p><p><em>How fucking </em>dare he<em>?</em></p><p>He writes “FUCK OFF, REN” in capital letters across the screen.</p><p>***</p><p>In the meeting room, Ren glances at his datapad while the officer giving the presentation goes into an overdetailed explanation of the energy supply plans for the next five years that would be completely up Hux’s alley but is threatening to send Ren back to sleep.</p><p>He sees what Hux has written. And smiles to himself.</p><p>***</p><p>Hux has been staring at the ceiling for quite a while, sulking, when the droids enter the room. There are four, two of which are carrying what he immediately recognises as reconditioning equipment. He freezes.</p><p>They quickly set the equipment up in a corner of the main room – the chair, helmet, and the other, horrible tools – and then the protocol droid addresses him: “If you would be so kind, General.”</p><p>
  <em>No. Nonononononono.</em>
</p><p>He doesn’t move, clawing at the sofa he has been lying on. But, as he expected, one of the other droids – a bulky security one – easily prises him off and unceremoniously dumps him on the chair, where two smaller droids quickly proceed to restrain him, strapping arms, legs, and back against the chair. As they place the helmet on his head he snarls: “<em>Tell Ren that he’s a fucking ar…</em>”</p><p>But before he can finish the sentence, a mouth guard is placed against his teeth, silencing him.</p><p>
  <em>For fuck’s sake, I have worked on this. I know it inside out and know the tricks. It won’t work on me. What is Ren playing at? </em>
</p><p>The helmet moves further down, covering his eyes, and he sees the familiar blank screen. Then his shirt sleeve is rolled up, there’s the prick of a needle, and he feels the cool fluid being pumped into his vein.</p><p>“I do apologise for the inconvenience, General,” says the protocol droid. “The Supreme Leader is interested in finding more about your preferences.”</p><p>
  <em>My what?</em>
</p><p>“Ummmph!” He makes a surprised noise as his belt is undone and his zip opened, and a metallic hand takes out his – very, very limp – penis. And places something cold, also metallic around it. At the same time, another pair of droid hands unbuttons his shirt front and places a number of electrodes on his chest.</p><p>The screen comes to life. It’s some sort of holofilm – a man dressed like a plumber but who clearly hasn’t done any plumbing in his life knocks at a door, which is opened by a buff young man wearing only an extremely tight pair of shorts.</p><p>
  <em>Wow, this is so terrible, it looks like a really bad holoporno…</em>
</p><p>The plumber says something about bringing out his “big tool” and unzips his trousers. Displaying what is indeed a humongous dick.</p><p><em>It </em>is<em> a really bad holoporno. </em></p><p>And then he gets it. The standard conditioning protocol involves physical monitoring – heart rate, pupil dilation, breathing – to see how the subject responds to specific cues, and then pleasurable or painful stimuli are administered to induce the right responses. What Ren seems to have done here is take the monitoring part of the procedure, focusing on sexual cues.</p><p>Actually, Hux realises quickly enough, there’s <em>nothing but </em>sexual cues. Lots and lots and lots of them. Ren is monitoring his reactions to sexual stimuli, to establish which ones he is most responsive to.</p><p>He feels how the relaxant seeps warmly into his system, slowing his thoughts down, forcing him to just sit back and focus on the images.</p><p>
  <em>Sith hells.</em>
</p><p>The sex sequences follow one upon another, a dizzying sequence of filth: every position (upright, missionary, doggie style, hanging from the chandelier), every combination of human possibilities (mostly inter-male sex, with the occasional appearance of female, non-binary, and indeterminately-gendered individuals), as well as plenty of non-human sentients (tentacles. Lots of tentacles. Hux had heard about the multiple-penised species, but he had never actually seen one. Stars, that must be <em>complicated.</em>) There’s cocks, and mouths, and anuses, and balls and every bodily fluid known to man or alien, and all the possible ways in which they can interact. There’s silly scenarios and dramatic scenarios and tragic scenarios and funny scenarios. There’s fluffy stuff and there are really, really hardcore things that make Hux gag against the mouth guard and try to shut his eyes (but the helmet gives him an electric shock every time he tries that). There’s feminisation and adult babies and furries and something very odd involving some sort of green goop in a paddling pool.</p><p>And then, finally, there’s gags. Manacles. Blindfolds. A man hanging from a chain, being thrashed with a riding crop. A man on all fours, wearing a snout-shaped muzzle. A slave kneeling before his master.</p><p>Hux’s mouth has gone bone dry behind the guard.</p><p>
  <em>Dammit, Ren. </em>
</p><p><br/>
***</p><p>He has no idea how much time has passed when finally the helmet is lifted and he is released. Three hours, three days? (Not three days, most likely. Unless the droids have again been doing weird things to his bladder while he was out of it).</p><p>He blinks, still dazed, trying to find his bearings. He’s horribly aroused – the holo was no doubt responsive to his reactions, and after a certain point, it had kept him on a constant edge, bombing him with increasingly hot scenes and images, driving him to a point in which he really could not understand why he wasn’t spurting right there and then. He’s trembling, he realises.</p><p>And then there’s strong, warm hands on his forearms, and he’s helped out of the chair and onto the sofa. He looks up. Ren, smiling down at him. Looking extremely pleased with himself.</p><p>“<em>You fucking pervert.”</em></p><p>Ren’s smile deepens. “Given your... interesting readings, General, I would be more careful how I used that term.”</p><p>Hux leans forward, resting his head in his hands. He’s so horny it hurts. And Ren is so close, he can smell him. “What was the hell was the point of <em>that</em>? You can read my thoughts any time you want anyway.”</p><p>“True. But you refused to do what I asked you. I wanted to save time, identifying your – main interests. And get you in the right mood.”</p><p>“Your idea of setting the mood is strapping your partners down to a brainwashing machine against their will? I wonder why you are still single.”</p><p>“It has worked, though.” Ren glances down at Hux’s crotch.</p><p>Hux stares at him. At his insufferable smile, his smugness, his certainty. The drug is still coursing through his blood, and he still sees the afterimage of all that filth at the back of his mind, the river of obscenities, burning him, as he burns with rage against the man who has wrecked his life and his future, who is keeping him here like some sort of pet or plaything or…</p><p>He jumps up and, before Ren can react, grabs him by his shirt and pulls him into a hard, gnashing kiss, biting the taller man's lip (<em>those lips</em>) until he tastes blood.</p><p>He draws back, panting with fury and lust. Snarling. “<em>I swear I’ll tear your throat out with my teeth if you don’t get me off NOW, Ren</em>.”</p><p>Ren’s eyes grow very wide as he is caught completely off guard. Then they narrow again, and he kisses Hux back with a ferocity that almost equals the General’s.</p><p>Then, still kissing and biting, he gathers the desperate man in his arms, and they crash into the bedroom.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hux is gagging for it. Maddened with lust and frustration and sheer <em>need</em>. It throbs in him, furiously, like a feverish wound. After leading him to the edge and leaving him there yesterday, and today’s precisely targeted pornographic onslaught, Ren had thought that the Hux would be pliant and docile, eager to do anything just to get his release from Ren.</p><p>And yet the General <em>fights </em>him at every single step. Both seeking and resisting him, as if he were driven insane by his need for Ren while at the same time utterly repulsed by it. As if the General – and Ren strongly suspects that this is closer to the truth – were fighting himself.</p><p>Even without taking the Force into account, purely on physical terms, Hux cannot compare to Ren. While he is almost as tall, he is slim and wiry where Ren is thick and muscle-bound – the body of a climber or a dancer, as opposed to that of a wrestler. And yet Hux is not remotely weak – after all, he’s a trained soldier, and his quick reflexes and speed make him lethally dangerous in combat, particularly when he’s in a murderous mood. Like now.</p><p>Ren has to make use of all his weight advantage over the lithe man to subdue him – and even then, Hux continues to resist, kicking Ren in his pressure points, biting, scratching – even, at one point, <em>spitting</em> at him in the eye to blind him.</p><p>And then crashing against Ren again and again as they tear off their clothes, digging into his flesh. As if he both wanted to hurt Ren and <em>sink</em> into him.</p><p>Eventually, Ren manages to pin the General down by the leather cuffs at his wrists, holding his legs down with his own, and they stare at each other, panting hard. Both fascinated by the bloody trail of bruises and scratches and bites they have left on each other’s flesh.</p><p>“And now what?” breathes Hux. “This is the part where you rape me? That is, the part where you rape me <em>even more</em>?”</p><p>“I told you,” replies Ren. “I’m not doing anything you don’t want me to do.”</p><p>“You just mind-fucked me for hours, Ren.”</p><p>Ren blinks. “I meant physically.”</p><p>Hux squeezes his eyes shut, and, without even trying, Ren feels how much the General wants to be <em>fucked raw</em>, the way he’s apparently used to. And also, how much he’s fighting the urge.</p><p>Ren lowers his head, and places a gentle kiss on the side of his neck. Hux shudders with unexpected pleasure. “I thought you wanted me to get you off, General?”</p><p>Hux tries to reply, but all that comes out is an inarticulate groan.</p><p>“Something about tearing out my throat? Hmmm?”</p><p>Holding his grip on Hux’s wrists, Ren moves down, planting his lips down Hux’s throat, to the notch between his clavicles, making his way down the breastbone. He can see the soft coppery down standing on end as his lips brush against the pale skin, hears the catch in Hux’s breath as he is overcome by sensation.</p><p>He takes his hands off Hux’s wrists, replacing them with the Force, and moves down to encircle the General’s narrow waist. He kisses his navel, smiles at Hux’s helpless moaning.</p><p>Then brings his arms below Hux’s thighs, raising and parting them, and Hux’s moans turn ambiguous. Struggling again.</p><p>“Shhh,” Ren hushes him. “Relax, General. Nothing is going to happen that you don’t want.” He lowers his head between Hux’s legs. And slowly, languorously, licks the underside of his testicles, the delicate skin of his perineum. Hux gasps out loud. And Ren, wickedly: “But you <em>do</em> want this, don’t you?”</p><p>All that comes out of Hux’s mind now is a constant stream of <em>fuck fuck fuck fuck Ren Ren Ren, </em>over and over and over. Both cursing and begging.</p><p>Ren raises Hux’s legs slightly higher and moves further down, to the tight dark swirl of his anus. Kisses it.</p><p>And Hux’s mental cacophony becomes almost unbearable in its loud confusion: <em>no no what what wait please fuck Ren fuck fuck fuck please Ren what wait fuck</em></p><p>Ren looks up. Hux’s cock is still upright and full, and his body is still screaming to be <em>taken; </em>but there’s a wavering, an edge of fear, that Ren prefers not to go over. Yet.</p><p>He lowers Hux’s legs again, and moves up to his torso. Then brings his mouth down around the other man’s cock.</p><p>Hux cries out, and Ren feels the sheer force of his need, his desperation, pressing against his mind, the same way his engorged, dripping cock is filling his mouth. Hux won’t be able to hold for long.</p><p>So he licks gently, sending pulses through the Force to calm Hux down a little, to steady him, to allow him to relax and enjoy this more. But Hux keeps stirring and moaning within his arousal, as if in distress. As if something is missing.</p><p>And then Ren understands.</p><p>Raising himself on one elbow, he lifts his other hand. And sends an invisible Force tendril to close around the General’s throat as he intensifies his sucking.</p><p>The cry that comes out of Hux just before Ren cuts his airflow off doesn’t sound entirely human.</p><p>And the General comes, explosively, wildly, into Ren’s mouth.</p><p>***</p><p>While Hux is still weak from his orgasm, Ren tethers him again by the wrists to the headboard of his bed. He wants to be able to take care of him, after, properly.</p><p>And indeed Hux resists at first when Ren brings a warm towel to wipe him down. “What fresh hell is this now, Ren?” he mutters weakly, trying to move away from the wet cloth. “Spa torture?”</p><p>Ren ignores him, and carefully cleans and dries him. Then smooths the General’s dishevelled hair back, and starts to stroke his sides, as one would the flanks of a skittish horse.</p><p>“It’s pleasure, General,” he muses. “Just pleasure.”</p><p>Hux looks at him through narrowed eyes, mistrustful even as Ren’s caresses – and a gentle push with the Force – make him yield to passivity. “You didn’t come.”</p><p>“No. That wasn’t the point.”</p><p>A pause.</p><p>“I’m not going to become addicted to sex with you, Ren.”</p><p>Ren smiles slightly, gazing at the indentations of Hux’s ribs where he’s stretched long and taut. “It’s not a matter of addiction, General. As I said, I need to be able to trust you.”</p><p>He can practically <em>see </em>how Hux’s mind races through the possibilities, through all the tactics he can take now. How he finally opts for directness. Partly out of sheer curiosity. “And how does the… sex thing fit into that?”</p><p>“Well. Now I have a good idea of what your most intimate makeup is like. As I had thought, it fits quite well with my own. So I will use that as the basis to bind you to me.”</p><p>“Bind…?”</p><p>“A bond. Aided by the Force.”</p><p> Hux is staring at him as if Ren had just sprouted a second head. “You want to create a sexual Force bond.” And he clearly just can’t help himself. “Like the one you had with that scavenger?”</p><p>Ren’s face darkens at the mention. “No. A real one. That was – a delusion, generated by Snoke to keep me under his thumb. There was never any –” A pause. “Ultimately, it’s not about sex, in the sense of just fucking, in the sense of sticking the right body parts in the right holes. It’s about control. It’s about <em>power</em>.” And he looks into Hux’s eyes, piercing him with his gaze. “But you know that already, don’t you?”</p><p>Hux tries to hold Ren’s burning gaze for a moment. Then looks away, unable to. “You mean that you will trust me when I give up control to you.”</p><p>
  <em>When, not if. </em>
</p><p>Ren smiles to himself, then takes hold of Hux’s chin, and gently turns his face towards him. “No, General. I will trust you when you <em>want </em>to give up control to me.”</p><p>***</p><p>Later, after Ren unties him and he takes a good, long hot shower, Hux asks Ren, who is getting ready to leave again: “Am I still alive? Officially?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“So why can’t I go out?”</p><p>Ren frowns. “Very few people know that you are here. Officially, you were seriously wounded in battle and are under medical care. No details have been given.”</p><p>“So I could recover at any time. Or I could die any minute. At your whim.”</p><p>Ren doesn’t reply to this. “I’m sorry you are stuck in here. But I can’t let you go out, not until I’m certain of your loyalty. You might cause riots. You might try to escape.”</p><p>Hux scowls in frustration. “You say that you’ll trust me when I want to be loyal to you. But how can I prove my loyalty? How will you be able to tell if I truly want it or if I just want it to get out of these rooms?”</p><p>Ren remains inexpressive. “I’ll know.” He makes to leave again; but, unexpectedly, stretches out his hand, and lightly grazes Hux’s. “Be patient, Armitage. Trust me.”</p><p>
  <em>Trust me.</em>
</p><p>Hux stares at him, dumbfounded by the sudden closeness, as he moves towards the door. “Ren.”</p><p>He turns.</p><p>“These are your personal quarters, aren’t they?”</p><p>He nods. “Yes.”</p><p>“So – I’ve been sleeping in your bed for the last two days. Where have you been sleeping?”</p><p>Ren smiles slightly for a moment. Then gestures with his chin towards the sofa. “It’s more comfortable than it looks,” he says, grinning at Hux’s horrified expression. “I’ll send a droid along. You can ask it for books or holos if you like.”</p><p>And walks out of the door. Leaving Hux even more stunned than before.</p><p>***</p><p>When Ren returns, late that night, Hux is still up, reading some military history that he asked the droid to find for him, an actual print book.</p><p>“You can also access the ship’s library through your datapad, you know,” Ren points out as he comes in.</p><p>“I know. The droid set up an account for me. But I’d been wanting to read this one for years. It’s never been digitised.” He sets the book down. “The droid asked me what my meal preferences were.”</p><p>“And?”</p><p>Hux looks at him oddly. “I was wondering… perhaps we could have dinner when you come back in the evening? I mean,” he adds quickly, “I have no one to talk to during the day.” He blushes slightly. “It would be nice to have a conversation over a meal.”</p><p>“Even with me?”</p><p>Hux huffs. “In the absence of a better option.”</p><p>Ren grins. “I’d like that, General.”</p><p>***</p><p>The evening draws to a close. Hux makes himself a cup of tea – the droid has left a kettle and several boxes of teabags in the kitchen – while Ren takes a shower, then goes into the bathroom to brush his teeth while Ren changes into whatever he sleeps in. They don’t talk, but brush against each other in companionable silence, almost – it occurs to Hux – as if they had lived together for years.</p><p>Oddly enough, the thought doesn’t disturb him as much as perhaps it should.</p><p>When he comes out of the bathroom again, Ren is wearing a pair of cotton drawstring trousers, plumping up the sofa cushions for the night and retrieving a thin quilt from a cupboard.</p><p>
  <em>He doesn’t even lay a bottom sheet, for fuck’s sake. </em>
</p><p>“Ren.”</p><p>The other man looks up.</p><p>“This is ridiculous. Your bed is huge.” He looks aside, then back at him. “We can share. I don’t mind.”</p><p>Ren smiles. More widely than he had probably intended to.</p><p>“Don’t look so pleased with yourself,” sniffs Hux. “I’m perfectly aware that you are manipulating me. I’m not stupid.”</p><p>“And? Is it working?”</p><p>“Of course not.” He turns and goes into the bedroom. “Are you coming or what?”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank your for all the wonderful comments and kudos! They really, really make my day/week/month.</p><p>Today there is quite a bit of competence kink. And then it gets rather more, er, kinky/weird/intense. I don't expect it to be everyone's cup of tea. But it's what came out - I'm just the one writing it down.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As they get into bed, Hux half-expects Ren to tie him down for the night. But the other man just climbs into his side, turns over, with his back to Hux, and turns off the light.</p><p>
  <em>He’s not worried that I may try to kill him in his sleep?</em>
</p><p>Ren must have overheard his thought, because he says, in an oddly toneless voice: “You already tried to kill me when I was unconscious, General. You know what happened.”</p><p>Hux’s breath catches at the sudden memory. <em>Ah. That. </em></p><p>He says, as steadily as he can: “I tried to kill you because I thought you were a dangerous, unstable maniac who was going to bring the entire Order down through his obsession with the Jedi. I thought you were a threat, not to me, but to everyone. If I was wrong about that, then I’m glad, for the sake of the galaxy.” A pause. “But you must acknowledge it wasn’t an entirely unfounded view.”</p><p>Ren doesn’t answer, or budge, for a long moment. Then: “Good night, General.”</p><p>“Good night, Ren.” Hux turns off the light on his nightstand. And huddles under his side of the blankets, wondering.</p><p>***</p><p>When he wakes up in the morning, Ren is already gone. He gets up, pads to the kitchen area to make himself a cup of tea, and starts planning. <em>Right. </em></p><p>He needs a daily routine if he’s going to survive this confinement sane. So he calls for the drone, who duly brings him all he requires. And soon he has set up a schedule – realising that, in these strange circumstances, he has, for the first time in years, the time to catch up with things he had seriously neglected.</p><p>He starts with a workout – he’s not the kind of person to go to a gym, and doesn’t really need any equipment. Many officers will not spare the time to train once they get a senior posting, but Hux had always taken care to keep himself physically fit, partly out of aesthetic concerns, but also because he wanted to know that he could hold his own in combat if needed (except, obviously, against bloody Force users.)</p><p>It’s satisfactory, sweating and burning, as if he were reclaiming his own body for the first time – the feeling that, despite the circumstances, it still can <em>do </em>the things he wants it to. That he’s still in command. He takes a quick shower, makes himself another cup of tea, and reads for a few hours from the military history he had requested, taking notes.</p><p>Then he decides to make lunch. Cooking is something he used to enjoy and take a certain pride in, as a young officer, and that he was unable to do for many years. (At first, as a junior officer, there was no actual kitchen; later on, as a senior officer, he hardly ever had time to sleep or eat anything other than ration bars, much less actually <em>cook.</em>) Ren’s kitchen is small but perfectly serviceable, if obviously hardly used – Ren seems to use it only to make himself coffee. But the droid brings him all he needs: the cooking implements, and the ingredients for an Arkanian fish stew, one of the dishes he learnt to cook from his mother. Some of the ingredients aren’t the right ones – fresh fish is not really a good option for space travel, and Arkanian fish is impossible to find outside the planet – but he thinks the substitutions he has requested will do.</p><p>Ren, he realises at one point, actually has a music system in his quarters. He selects some random instrumental recording he’s not familiar with to listen to while he cooks. And after a while he realises that he is actually <em>really enjoying this: </em>the leisurely, almost meditative pleasure of cleaning and chopping and pouring, following the unwritten recipe which he had internalised so long ago and which is still there living in him, like muscle memory, with the soft, non-obtrusive tune playing in the background.</p><p>By the time he’s done, it’s lunch time, and he’s hungry. As he takes the lid off the pan, the smell wafts up. And he is struck by the sudden memory of his mother, and his mother’s kitchen, triggered by the warm aroma of fish and broth and herbs.</p><p>It’s so vivid that for one moment he feels like he’s six again, watching his mother cook in their tiny kitchen, barefoot as he is now, the soft downpour of the rain on the dark Arkanis forests outside…</p><p>He breathes in, a mix of a shudder and a sob. He hadn’t remembered that since – since when?</p><p>Takes another breath, and tastes the stew, burning his tongue as he knew he would inevitably do. He always used to burn his tongue in his eagerness, as a child. It’s good. He’ll have some now for lunch, with some bread.</p><p>It will be better in the evening, though.</p><p>***</p><p>After lunch, he decides to take a nap – he can’t remember the last time he took one. When he wakes up, feeling ridiculously refreshed, he sits on the sofa, and picks up the datapad the droid gave him. As he idly flicks through the library catalogue, he wonders – perhaps he can get access to the ship’s intraholo from there?</p><p>He can. He has access to all the public information on the ship, as well as to some of the junior officers’ boards.</p><p>And then he clicks on a link posted by some officer in a thread discussing, of all things, Outer Rim wines (apparently the some of the more younger officers have some sort of wine tasting club going) – and he realises that he can actually access the holonet. The entire, open holonet.</p><p>He blinks, perplexed. Ren, or Ren’s droid, must have overlooked this.</p><p>
  <em>Or perhaps not. </em>
</p><p>Knowing Ren, and his newly-found talent for manipulation, it’s perfectly possible that he has deliberately left this door open to him. And is now monitoring his use of the datapad, waiting to see what Hux will do, what he will look for, whether he will try to contact someone on the outside. (<em>Ha. Who?</em>)</p><p>He frowns, trying to decide in what ways he should try to outwit Ren.</p><p>
  <em>Who gives a fuck?</em>
</p><p>Ultimately, what does it matter? He’s a has-been: at best, a disgraced former General who was never particularly liked, with no troops or friends or relatives to support him. There’s no one there, anywhere.</p><p>So he decides to look at whatever takes his fancy, without worrying about whether Ren will think it’s treason. The worst thing he can do to him, after all, is kill him.</p><p>He starts to browse through news sites, eager to find what had happened during the time he was out of it. Much of what he finds is First Order propaganda, of course – Ren’s rise to power is everywhere described as excellent news for the galaxy, with no real criticism anywhere. But reading between the lines, as he learnt to do during his time in intelligence, it seems that Ren’s regime is actually quite welcome by most planetary elites in the Core Planets, which is where the galaxy’s actual power resides. The Resistance went on about freedom and democracy and so on, but the fact is that most of the galaxy just wanted some peace and stability. So the Core Planets seem happy that the war is over, and timidly hopeful that Ren might, just might, bring in some version of democratic rule at some point.</p><p>On a more personal level, it seems pretty obvious that the previous First Order command have been wiped off the map, as there is absolutely no mention of them anywhere. All the generals and admirals – nowhere to be found. It’s as if Ren had won the war single-handedly.</p><p>Hux can only imagine the purges in the aftermath of Ren’s takeover. He remembers Ren saying that Mitaka and the rest of his crew were now part of his new command. <em>Good. </em></p><p>As he quickly forms an idea of the situation in the galaxy and in the Order now, he starts to take notes, like he did with the military treatise. He only has public information, having of course no access to the highly confidential materials which he used to handle on an everyday basis as a General. But he is sufficiently practised to know that far more than it seems can be gleaned from apparently innocuous data.</p><p>He spends the afternoon reading about new materials, the rising stock of certain natural resources on certain Outer Rim Worlds, and a tribal alliance in a Mid Rim world, taking frantic notes, and suddenly realises that he’s <em>excited </em>about this.</p><p><em>I can work. I can actually </em>work<em> again. </em></p><p>***</p><p>When Ren comes back in the evening, Hux doesn’t even look up from the datapad.</p><p>“You look busy,” smiles Ren.</p><p>Hux looks up. “You need to forget about the Hak’issa and get in touch with the Beriad’u on Balmorra as soon as possible. They are synthesising ixion, or very close.”</p><p>Ren stares at him. He’s just spent most of the day in meetings about how to deal with the Hak’issa, some sort of complicated tribal setup that nonetheless controls the mining of ixion on Eriadu. Ren is in no way an engineering expert, but he knows his fleet needs ixion for the new hyperdrive technology developed by the Order. And the Hak’issa are proving to be extremely tough negotiators.</p><p>“Who have you been talking to?”</p><p>Hux shakes his head. He looks – on overdrive. Almost manic. “There’s a shaking from the hull every forty-five minutes or so. Haven’t you noticed it? You can feel it in the bulkheads. That’s a sign that the hyperdrive is not working properly because the fuel we are using is suboptimal. From which I can only infer that the deal I was trying to close with the Hak’issa clan on Eriadu before – before everything happened didn’t pan out, so we have no ixion left. And you’re trying to find a way in with them again, which is hard because they know that we can’t just bomb the shit out of them because they are sitting on the mines that we actually need.  Am I wrong?”</p><p>Ren gapes in astonishment.</p><p>Hux ignores him. “The Beriad’u have recently joined forces with a number of minor subclans specialising in biotech. They have tried to keep things under wraps, but, from the look of their patents, it’s obvious that they have developed, or are very close to developing, a way to synthesise ixion in a lab. So no mining needed. So no need for the Hak’issa. Who no doubt know about all this and are trying like crazy to sabotage the Beriad’u. And that’s why you need to go in there and talk to the Beriad’u. Because synthetic ixion would solve so many problems for us – and, even if they haven’t actually developed it, you’ll get tremendous leverage to negotiate with the Hak’issa if need be. It’s a win either way.”</p><p>He stops and inhales (he has said all this practically without stopping to breathe.). Ren is still open-mouthed with shock.</p><p>“I – spent the afternoon doing a bit of research on the holonet.”</p><p>Ren finally blinks. “You – you got all this just from <em>browsing the holonet</em>?”</p><p>“Well, that and more than twenty years’ experience in military intelligence.”</p><p>Ren finally takes a seat, trying to process this. He had given Hux access to the holonet to see what he would do – and the man has gone and solved the very problem he has been struggling with for almost two weeks in – what? Four hours? And this <em>shut up in a room on his own.</em></p><p>“I wrote a report. With recommendations. If you want to take a look,” says Hux. And hands him the datapad.</p><p>Ren takes it, still dizzy with disbelief. He had known Hux was competent, but this –</p><p>
  <em>This is exactly why Hux got to be General Hux.</em>
</p><p>“Thank you,” he says, finally, picking up the report. “I’ll pass it on to my analysts straight away. I’m sure they’ll –“ <em>Fall on their knees and give thanks. </em></p><p>He just stares at Hux again. Who looks down, then looks up at him again.</p><p>“I <em>was </em>good at what I did, Ren,” he says, quietly. Proud.</p><p>
  <em>This is not ‘good’. This is extraordinary. </em>
</p><p>But Ren just nods. “You still are, General. Thanks again.” He swallows, then looks aside, at the kitchen. “Something smells wonderful. Did you get the droid to cook?”</p><p>***</p><p>As Hux had expected, the stew is better now – like almost all stews, it is better some time after it has been made, when the flavours have been allowed to settle and deepen. They eat in silence – mostly because Ren is too stunned to speak. First the ixion problem, now this – <em>cooking. Hux cooks. </em></p><p>“It’s delicious,” he says, again.</p><p>“So you have told me. Five times.”</p><p>“But it’s true. It’s – “ Ren breaks off some bread and dips it in the wonderful, thick, saffron-tinted broth. He looks up at the other man. “You are full of surprises, General.”</p><p>“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He looks at Ren in the eye. “I’m going stir-crazy in here, Ren. I’m good at what I do. Let me do it. <em>I’m wasted here.”</em></p><p>Ben puts down his spoon and leans back in his seat. “I need to see, General.”</p><p>“You need to see? What do you need to see?”</p><p>“I want to see more. I need to understand you. Before I can trust you.”</p><p>Hux scowls in frustration, slapping his napkin against the tabletop. “I have no idea what you are trying to find or see, Ren. Presumably this is some high-level mystic Force process that I can’t ever hope to understand. But I don’t know what you want me to do, other than submit to your – your manipulations – and it wouldn’t be so bad if there was actually some discernible outcome, some change. But there isn’t. And it’s driving me <em>insane</em>.” He rubs his hand across his face, trying to dissolve the tears of rage that threaten to pool in his eyes.</p><p>Ren is silent for a moment. Then says: “There are things about you that I need to see. They have to do with the Force, as you say – with the Force bond I told you about.”</p><p>Hux looks at him, wary. “Things that have to do with sex.”</p><p>“With you. With who you are. With the core of you.” Ren sighs. “I’m possibly the most powerful Force user alive. You know I can take whatever I want. But –“ A pause. “I’d much rather you let me in.”</p><p>Another silence. Hux stares into his lap. Then looks up again.</p><p>“All right.”</p><p>***</p><p>They settle on the bed, on top of the coverlet. Hux is sitting between Ren’s legs, back leaning against his chest. Ren’s arms surround him, holding him – both restraining and protective.</p><p>Ren is about to start, but before he can say anything, Hux turns around and looks at him, urgently.</p><p>“What I did this afternoon – being able to <em>work</em> again – just… I don’t know what you expect to find now. But please, don’t take that away from me. <em>Not my work</em>.”</p><p>Ren looks back at him. Then nods gravely. “I won’t, General. I promise.”</p><p>Hux swallows in relief and nerves. “Well. I – I am ready then.”</p><p>Ren brings one arm around Hux’s chest, embracing him, and his other hand to the side of his head, cradling it. “Thank you. Then – as I said, this will be easier if you let me in. You must allow yourself to be open to me.”</p><p>Hux closes his eyes, nods.</p><p>“Good. Take a deep breath. Try to relax.” He slightly shifts Hux so that he leans further back against him. “I want you to think about your sexual encounters.”</p><p>Hux frowns. He imagined this was coming, but it’s still uncomfortable. Tritt Orpan’s lean, sharp face springs to his mind, suddenly vivid.</p><p>He can feel Ren tense beneath him. “No, not <em>him</em>,” he says in an odd voice. “Your planetside encounters. What you would seek out whenever you went on a planetside leave.”</p><p>“I… there were many of them. What…?”</p><p>“The one that comes to mind. The one you remember most. The one that was most – satisfactory. Most intense.”</p><p>Hux knows immediately which one. He hesitates. All his sexual escapades are secret and private, of course, something he has never talked about with anyone. But this one – all he can think is that this one was the one most intensely <em>personal. </em>Even though otherwise it was hardly different from all the others in its transactional, anonymous nature.</p><p>He hesitates, and feels the gentle prod in his mind – Ren, who is already in through the Force, and has noticed that he has stopped here.</p><p>Another prod<em>. Yes. This one. </em></p><p>Hux swallows. And allows himself to fall into the memory.</p><p>***</p><p>He walks through the rainy city streets, wrapped in the old mackintosh he keeps as part of his civilian uniform, specifically for this purpose. It’s an industrial city, all garish neon lights and chemical fumes, with a constant floating population of migrant workers and hard-faced human natives that makes it easy to lose oneself in the crowd. Which is a huge relief after being a constant beacon on his ship: on the <em>Finalizer, </em>General Hux is the focus of all eyes when he enters a room.</p><p>Here, nobody cares who he is. Nobody sees him.</p><p>He turns into a dark alley at a junction, following the instructions he was given in that grotty dive. Passes the doorway before realising it’s there. Knocks.</p><p>A small window slides open in the door. A pair of eyes. Waiting.</p><p>He lowers his head, slightly. “I seek to serve.”</p><p>The window slides shut again. The door opens. He walks into a cool, dark corridor.</p><p>Gentle hands welcome him, leading him further in. He is taken into a darkened room, where his raincoat, his shoes, all his clothes are removed. There is a hollow in the floor, a built-in tub, filled with warm water. He is led in, bathed, wrapped in a towel, dried down. Then he is left kneeling, naked, in the middle of the room.</p><p>At no point does he raise his eyes to look at his hosts. These are the Brethren – he has sought them before, elsewhere, and knows the protocol. He falls into it easily, as easily as he slipped into the warm bathwater.</p><p>He knows that here, for once, he will be safe. His mind at peace, for once, his body light. There’s nothing to think of, here, nothing to worry about. No questions to ask, no decisions to make. No curiosity, no anger, no fear. No desire other than to surrender. All he has to do is obey, and serve.</p><p>For five days, he becomes empty, clean. The perfect vessel.</p><p>There is pain, at times. Whippings, which only help his mind to detach from his body, a bemused, neutral observer.</p><p>At no point does anyone address him, nor does he speak. He is wordlessly led, handled, restrained. Used.</p><p>He kneels, surrounded by looming figures – male, female, androgynous. Leans forward, licking, sucking, being facefucked. Offering himself. Eager to be of use.</p><p>He lies blindfolded as hands caress him and his mouth yields to a probing tongue. He is sucked and kissed and fondled. He is breached and entered, over and over and over, by one, by several – no matter. He doesn’t have to think about it. He doesn’t have to think about anything. He only has to lie and take it, passive, receptive, open. He’s rimmed, pounded, filled with cum. He too comes, repeatedly, hard, but that doesn’t really matter. That’s not the point.</p><p>Oddly, perhaps the most intense part of the memory is when he is brought to a room, gently pushed down to kneel in front of a wall. Palms up, thighs spread wide. All he has to do is gaze at the wall, and empty his mind. He thinks nothing, hopes for nothing, expects nothing. Feels nothing. Whatever little sense of self was left by then flickers and is gone, and, for a blissful, timeless moment, he is no one. Nothing. Blank.</p><p>Then the nameless presence behind him, and the firm hand on his nape, running through his hair. Like <em>He</em> had carded his hand through Hux’s hair when he had knelt, laying his head on His thigh, all those years ago.</p><p>His orgasm, when it comes, is gentle, quiet. Almost like a sigh.</p><p>***</p><p>Ren is afraid to even breathe, afraid to break the trance, as Hux sighs and quietly spills his semen into Ren’s stroking hand, then slips into unconsciousness, exhausted by the intensity of the memory and the Force-openness.</p><p>He gazes down at the unconscious man, still in shock. No wonder Hux had resisted him so.</p><p>He lets his head fall back against the headboard, catching his breath again, feeling the blood throb along his painfully engorged penis. Closes his eyes.</p><p>Now he knows what – or <em>who</em> – to look for.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Next morning, Ren stays for breakfast, and they have toast over their tea and coffee in silence – Hux has decided that it’s best not to talk about last night at all, although he can’t imagine that Ben won’t bring it up at some point. He’d rather not think about it at all, actually, even by himself.</p><p>And then, unexpectedly, there’s someone calling at the door, and Ren buzzes them in. The four tall, bulking figures loom at the end of the room, their rough leather and metal helmets and armours strangely incongruous in the streamlined minimalism of Ren’s quarters.</p><p>“You remember my Knights, General?” asks Ren.</p><p>“How could I forget,” mutters Hux. <em>The Buckethead Brigade are alive and well. </em>And then he remembers that these people are mind-readers, too, and shuts his mental commentary down.</p><p>“We talked this morning, and – we think we came up with an option that would make your circumstances a bit easier. I noticed you had been training. Would you like to train with them? In their own quarters? It’s private, nobody would see you there.”</p><p>Hux stares at him, at the Knights. Their silent, louring presence intimidates him – always has – but he’s not about to show it. Mind-readers or not. “I’d have to cross half the ship to get there, Ren. How am I supposed to do that? Hiding in a suitcase?”</p><p>Ren smirks. “That’s a possibility I’ll bear in mind in the future. But no, we thought you could wear one of their outfits. If you feel you can manage, that is.”</p><p><em>Fuck you, Ren. </em>“An armour?”</p><p>One of the Knights, who is carrying a heavy leather sack, brings it down from his shoulder and takes out some pieces of clothing and a helmet. They don’t look as heavy as the Knight’s outfits, but they are black and obviously thick.</p><p>“A training armour. Lighter,” says Ren. “The Knights often receive trainees and visitors. Nobody will look at you twice if you stick to them and stay quiet.” He tilts his head. “And of course they will make sure that nothing… untoward happens.”</p><p>
  <em>You mean, they’ll make sure I don’t run or try to pass on a message to anyone. </em>
</p><p>He takes a look at the dark clothes, at the black-clad, awaiting Knights. <em>Hell, why not</em>. And nods.</p><p>***</p><p>It's true: the Knight of Ren uniform, or whatever it is, is lighter than at first it seemed. The fabric is thick but stretchy, clinging to his slim body: it reminds Hux of the underwater suits he had had to wear during the scuba diving part of his military training. The helmet covers his entire head, crucially hiding his hair, but it’s not too heavy – it seems to be made of some sort of plastoid, not metal – and it’s not asphyxiating.</p><p>“What, no vocoder?” he mock-complains, as he steps out of the bedroom in full gear.</p><p>“No need,” replies Ren. “You won’t be doing much speaking anyway. Remember: if you need anything, address the Knights. Nobody else. Otherwise, this can get very unpleasant very quick.”</p><p>Hux nods, and takes a look at himself in the body-length mirror near the door. He looks like a bounty hunter, or a jewel thief. A sleek, elegant outsider. <em>The path not taken, </em>he smiles to himself under the helmet. He’s starting to see the point of going around in a mask.</p><p>“Very good.” He nods at the Knights. “Gentlemen. Ready when you are.”</p><p>***</p><p>The four Knights march in a cluster, keeping him in the centre – they are all taller than him, which makes Hux even less noticeable in the mass of dark on dark. He’s surrounded by Knights like black bulwarks on all sides.  </p><p>And yet the mix of relief and homesickness at seeing his ship again, however restrictedly – and despite that fact that he never actually <em>left</em> it – is so staggering that at first it feels unreal. He’s overcome by the sheer <em>glee </em>of walking through the familiar corridors, crossing the uniformed ranks of soldiers.  <em>I’m here. I’m still here. My ship. My ship. </em></p><p>There has been a change, though – subtle, but it’s there. Something in the air, the atmosphere, the way the crew move and talk. The First Order’s structures are still there, but the spirit has left the body, and it’s not yet clear what will replace it. He recognises it, from the time of the fall of the Empire, before the First Order fully emerged – the shifting, uncertain, interstitial feel of the time-between.</p><p>He should probably mourn, as one of the former leaders of the dead old order. But he feels – exhilarated. As if all the possibilities were open now, before the new structures have yet solidified.</p><p>One of his escorts removes his glove, presses his palm against a scan reader, and they enter the very private quarters of the Knights of Ren. Not even the General, the commander of this ship, who is supposed to know every nook and cranny in it, has been here before.</p><p>It’s surprisingly light and airy – he had expected some sort of gloomy, archaic den, filled with barbaric trophies and pelts, things like that, he supposes. There a large common area, with comfortable-looking sofas and seats, where the two other Knights of Ren are lounging, helmets off – both human males, apparently. They do not look up as their companions lead Hux past them, into the training area – a huge, white, empty room, lined with rows of weapons hanging from the walls.</p><p>Hux makes to remove his helmet, but one of the Knights – the one who wears the grid-like helmet, Vicrul, Hux seems to recall – stops him. Hux is left standing, slightly confused, as the Knights take off their tabards and jackets and start stretching. Vicrul glances up at him, and gestures for him to join them.</p><p>So he does.</p><p>***</p><p>Ren is sitting in his office, leafing through the latest reports without actually reading them. <em>Hux does have a point. He should be the one doing this. </em></p><p>But it’s not Hux’s spectacular display of competence yesterday that is distracting him.</p><p>He had known, from the very start, that Hux was sexually submissive, of course – it was obvious. Behind that steely façade, that rigid self-control, the man’s fantasies and daydreams were so powerful that they radiated in a way that seemed almost physical through the Force – Ren had not been exaggerating very much when he had told Hux that he could practically <em>smell </em>them whenever he passed him. And he had also known that the General found ways to relieve his needs in practice: there was always a trace of deep satisfaction and calm in his mental signature in the days following one of his trips to a planet.</p><p>What he had never suspected was the nature of the General’s needs. He had always thought that they would be more of a purely physical nature – something efficient and expeditious, with no emotional messiness, just like the man himself. Getting off being flogged, or fucked hard, or something like that. Finding out that Hux had had a standing arrangement with Tritt Orpan, his personal assassin, to get precisely that hadn’t surprised Ren at all. But he would have never thought that Hux was someone who would seek out the Brethren.</p><p>Not that he had had a very clear idea of what exactly the Brethren did, either. He had vaguely known of them – some sort of underground mystical sect that emphasised the notion of self-surrender through sex. He had imagined something akin to ritual prostitution, but apparently – judging from Hux’s memory – it didn’t work quite like that.  </p><p>What had shocked him to the core was the extent of Hux’s need to surrender. He would have <em>never </em>imagined that the brilliant, scathing, imperious General secretly craved to be brought to such depths of degradation and self-abasement. But it was clear that he needed it, and very badly at that – what had come through constantly, steadily, through his shared perception of Hux’s memory yesterday, was the pervasive feeling of <em>peace </em>in the General’s mind. Content. Repose. It was as if only when he was plunged into that abyss – that loss of self, that utter <em>abjection </em>– that Hux could rest for a while, his endless, exhausting, cycling thoughts stilled for once, his mind quieted.</p><p>And then, of course, there was the matter of that – presence. <em>Him. </em>Whoever that might be. Hux hadn’t even been aware of it, then, with the Brethren – the presence was in the background of his mind, not quite visible, but pervasive. Ren doubts that Hux was consciously aware of it at all, despite its power.</p><p>It was clearly something – someone – in Hux’s past on whom he had imprinted so strongly that it had driven him to seek a similar surrender elsewhere, again and again and again.</p><p>Ren feels a curious mix of intense jealousy, curiosity, and arousal at the thought of Hux being – <em>initiated</em>, he supposes is the right word – by this mysterious man. He runs through what he knows about the General’s history, considering potential candidates. <em>Not Orpan, certainly, </em>he thinks with a certain distaste, remembering the satisfaction that had filled him when he had broken the assassin’s neck, like one kills a rabbit, with the Force.</p><p>He needs, very, very badly, to see more.</p><p>***</p><p>Later, he reaches out to Vacrul with the Force. <em>How’s the General doing?</em></p><p>The answer comes prompt and clear. <em>Unharmed. He has… an interesting mind, Master. Shame he’s not a Force user.</em></p><p>Ren frowns slightly, perplexed. <em>Interesting how, Vacrul?</em></p><p>There is silence in the Force for a long moment. Then the answer comes. <em>I think he may be far stronger than any of us, Master. </em></p><p>***</p><p>When Hux is escorted back to Ren’s quarters, all he wants is a really, really hot shower and to collapse on Ren’s sofa.</p><p>The Knights were brutal, he feels like a sweaty, pathetic, uncoordinated mess, and he knows with complete certainty that tomorrow every single tendon of his body will be howling in pain.</p><p>It was <em>wonderful. </em></p><p>While highly competent in the physical parts of his military training, they were never the aspect that Hux was best at, or enjoyed in particular. He always did better when there was at least some analytical skill involved, which was why he stood out as a sniper. He duly lifted weights and so on, but it bored him to death.</p><p>But training with the Knights had been one of the most stimulating workouts of his life. It seemed to be essentially a fight routine in which the various components were repeated in different combinations, at the fighters’ discretion, in increasing degrees of complexity. This made it possible to adapt to your opponent’s style, as well as to your own strengths. Hux could never hope to match the Knights in strength – he doubted he could even lift half of the weapons they used – but he was superior to them in speed and reflexes and flexibility, and put them to good use, once he had got the feel for it.</p><p>And there was a rhythm to it, almost like a dance. Once he had mastered the basic steps, so to speak, he had thrown himself into the flow, and, quickly enough, despite some normal clumsiness and missteps, he felt that he entered it and became one with it, his movements elegant and smooth as he dodged and parried and feinted and twisted around the opposing Knight.</p><p>At no point did the Knights of Ren speak to him, or to each other: but then Hux had never heard them speak out loud, and he assumed that they communicated through the Force. And he was suddenly struck, while he fought, by their resemblance, in that respect, to the silent Brethren. In a way, this experience was as meditative as the memory Ren had unearthed. Of course, unlike with the Brethren, training with the Knights was extremely active; but at one point, once it had entered its groove, the mind reached a point of intense, exclusive focus and went into stasis, attentive only to the demands of the flow, unable to distinguish between it and itself.</p><p>And, he admits to himself, there are also physical similarities: he had been, after all, in constant proximity to the Knights’ bodies, could feel the heat radiating from them, smell them. In his relative litheness, he was the one who had had to bend and turn and yield to accommodate them. A bending reed among oaks.</p><p>He goes into the shower, stretching in pleasure in the heat and the steam. He is in no doubt that Ren will be requiring a full report on how he has done from the Knights. He hopes it will be good. He wants to do this again.</p><p>***</p><p>Ren comes back to his quarters to find Hux intent on his datapad again, and a quiche and a salad waiting in the middle of the dining table. <em>This is getting pretty domestic, </em>he smiles to himself. Finding that he doesn’t mind it at all.</p><p>“I had an idea,” he tells Hux as he puts away his things.</p><p>“Amazing,” mutters Hux, without raising his eyes.</p><p>Ren smirks. “We’ll be having another meeting about the ixion thing tomorrow. I thought that there might be a way in which you could participate.”</p><p>“How? You want to take a trainee Knight on the scrawny side with you to the meeting?”</p><p>“No. But you could follow it from here. I’ll have the droids stream it to your datapad. And you could send me messages in real time.”</p><p>Hux’s eyebrows shoot up. “Actually, that is a surprisingly good idea. Are you sure you want me sitting on your shoulder, though? You know I won’t hold back.”</p><p>“I gave your report to the analysts, telling them it was from an independent expert. They found it very useful.” It would have been rather more accurate to say: they went bananas over it. “I think I can put up with your snarky running commentary, General. At least it will keep me awake.” He points at the quiche. “Is this thing ready? Because I’m starving.”</p><p>***</p><p>“The Knights tell me that you are really out of shape and could do far better, but of course allowances should be made because you’ve only had military training,” says Ren, as they eat. “They won’t mind you joining them in their morning training, though.”</p><p>Hux conceals a smile, and helps himself to some more salad. “Oh, good.”</p><p>***</p><p>Eventually, Ren brings it up. “You know we’re going to have to talk about last night.”</p><p>Hux immediately tenses up. “We don’t <em>have</em> to. You mean you <em>want</em> to.”</p><p>Ren turns the palm of his hand up, conceding. But also making it clear that, ultimately, it’s <em>his</em> say.</p><p>“You say you want to be able to trust me,” says Hux. “But you seem to confuse trust and control. You say you will trust me when I want to give up control to you. But how can I want to give up control to you if <em>I </em>don’t trust <em>you</em>? It cuts both ways, Ren.” He folds his arms, angry. “That is, unless you actually want a, a – some sort of pet. That blindly slobbers with devotion for you, no matter how you treat it. And I cannot – <em>will not </em>– be that.”</p><p>Ren looks a Hux in silence for a long moment, picturing the recurring image – Hux as his dog, his hound, kneeling at his feet, muzzled. The other, overlaid image – Hux kneeling, resting his head on an unknown’s thigh. He’s overcome by the need to jump up, throw Hux onto the floor, and command him to lick his boots. And at some point, if he pushed enough, in the right places, Hux probably would, eventually.</p><p>But Hux is right. He doesn’t want a pet. Not a literal one, at least.</p><p>“I have kept you alive, even though you were a clear threat against me. I have – allowed you things. The datapad, the books. The Knights. I have slept with my back turned to you. I’m not saying you should be grateful,” he adds, seeing Hux’s mutinous expression. “I gave you this because I thought I could trust you.”</p><p>“To a certain extent.”</p><p>“To a certain extent,” agrees Ren. “The more you give me, the more I will give you. That’s how it works.” He crosses his arms. “What do you need to trust me more, General?”</p><p>Hux, taken aback, is left not knowing what to say for a moment. Then says: “You have seen… extremely intimate parts of me. Things no one else knows about.” He leans back in his chair. “Fair is fair, Ren.”</p><p>Ren looks at him in silence.  “What would you like to know?”</p><p>Hux stares at him. Is he – is he actually going to give him <em>this</em>? “I’m not a mind reader. I cannot look into your memories.”</p><p>“No. But I can project mine. You only have to tell me what you want to see. And I will share it with you.”</p><p>For a moment, Hux is at a loss, suddenly not knowing what to ask, precisely now that he is being offered the chance. And then the thought emerges, ringing clear as a bell.</p><p>Ren looks at him oddly. Then nods. “Very well, then.”</p><p>***</p><p>The first part of the memory Hux recognises. In fact, he <em>is </em>in the memory, standing side by side with Ren in front of the twisted, warped creature. As usual, he and Ren are squabbling over Starkiller, and he’s in the middle of a heated invective.</p><p>He’s taken aback at how <em>angry </em>he seems, seen through Ren’s eyes. He clearly hears, somehow, the words <em>rabid cur. </em>And he cannot but agree that that’s what he looks like there, right now.</p><p>Snoke puts an end to the argument, and dismisses Hux. Who turns around, ramrod-straight, and marches out of the room.</p><p>Ren follows him with his eyes, overhearing, without intending to, the General’s indignant thoughts. Ren is irritated by the General, but also, Hux realises with surprise, admires him. Not only physically – the way in which his eyes linger on Hux’s retreating bottom is fairly obvious – but as a person. He admires the way in which the General stands up to him, despite the fact that he obviously fears him too, the precise rationality with which he tries to lay out his arguments, his coolly collected demeanour, which, at this point, Ren can only aspire to.</p><p>And then Hux leaves the room, and Ren turns again to Snoke. Who is scowling at him in displeasure.</p><p>Hux had known that Ren’s training at Snoke’s hands involved a great deal of pain, both physical and mental. But he had never imagined that it would be quite like what Ren shows him.</p><p><em>This is not training, this is torture, </em>he thinks, sickened by the crunch of bones and sinews, and, worse, the agony as Ren’s thoughts and memories are forcibly combed through to extract the most painful ones to twist and turn and dig into them like a knife vivisecting a live nerve.</p><p>And suddenly, he realises, with a shock: Ren is being punished because of <em>him</em>, Hux. Because Ren desires him. Because Snoke knows that Ren is attached to him, and his attachment stubbornly persists, no matter how many punishments or threats he throws at his apprentice, no matter that Ren knows perfectly well that he will be unable to fully accept the Dark Side as long as this attachment remains. Ren is unable – and, on some level, unwilling – to let it go.</p><p>Then a jump, and he sees Ren in the fresher in his quarters, taking a shower. He is bleeding and hurting all over, the hot water a painful balm. He rests his forehead against the wall, allowing the water to wash the blood and the sweat away, and thinks of him. Of Hux.</p><p>How he would have grabbed him and kissed him, and bit on his lip until it bled. His furious urge, when they cross each other in the ship’s corridors, to push him up against the wall and fuck him raw – he imagines Hux’s helpless cries as he brings him, inevitably, mercilessly, to orgasm. The burning need he sometimes feels, when he is sitting close to Hux in meetings, to just <em>touch </em>him, smell him, hold him. And be held, too, by the General.</p><p>In the shower, Ren has taken hold of himself, and brings himself off, fast and hard, his spend mixing with the other fluids as it swirls down the drain. He takes a deep, shuddering sigh. The General is in his head, and he’s not going away. He’s not going <em>anywhere.</em></p><p>***</p><p>Hux blinks, disoriented, as the memory ends, and he finds himself again on Ren’s bed, lying in his arms, as they have taken to doing for this kind of thing. He looks up at Ren, who is gazing at him, expressionless. Waiting.</p><p>And then he moves slightly up. Places a hand on Ren’s jaw, and kisses him, slowly. Deeply.</p><p>When Ren had asked him what he wanted to see, the words had floated up from Hux’s mind by themselves, unbidden: <em>Your weakness.</em></p><p>And Ren has shown it to him. He, Hux, is Kylo Ren’s weakness.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The image of the reed and the oaks comes from a saying by Confucius: "The green reed which bends in the wind is stronger than the mighty oak which breaks in a storm."</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for all the wonderful comments and kudos! You have no idea how happy they make me.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He kisses Ren, and suddenly Hux’s mind is fired up by the image Ren showed him, the fantasy within the memory of Ren taking the General roughly, in the middle of a corridor.</p><p>His stomach clenches with need, but the edge, the fear, the doubt, is still there. He places his hands on Ren’s shoulder, panting hard, and looks down. Torn.</p><p>Ren gently detaches himself from Hux’s hands. He shakes his head. “I will only take all of you. Or not at all”.</p><p>Hux stares at him for a moment. Then lowers himself down to the other man’s waist. And smiles at Ren’s groan as his mouth closes around his hard cock.</p><p>***</p><p>The next day, he’s relieved that the meeting has been scheduled early in the morning, which gives him a excuse to skip the training with the Knights – it feels as if every single fibre of his body is aching, even muscles he hadn’t known he had.</p><p>When the time comes, he sits on the sofa, datapad in hand, and logs into the live feed through the link that Ren’s droids have sent him.</p><p>The camera is set up from a point high up on the wall, at about the mid-point of the long conference table, so he can see everyone present at a glimpse. Ren is at the head of the table, of course. Some of his former team are also there, including Lieutenant Mitaka – who, judging by the new stripes on his uniform, has been promoted to Captain. He smiles, pleased. <em>About time, too. </em></p><p>His smiles fades from his face when he sees the officer who stands up. Colonel Huizing had been Allegiant General Pryde’s second in command, a smarmy, sneering fellow who took pride in systematically trying to put down any of Hux’s views on petty technical grounds (as if Hux didn’t <em>always </em>dot his I’s and cross his t’s beforehand). Surprising, that he hadn’t fallen with his master during the purges – but then, Huizing was slimy enough that he had probably managed to wriggle his way out before the shit really hit the fan.</p><p>He wonders why this sycophant is here, apparently read to lead the meeting. Is this something deliberate on Ren’s part? An attempt to rile him?</p><p>But Ren seems to be completely oblivious. He just nods for the Colonel to start.</p><p>And <em>of course</em>, Huizing proceeds to start bringing up objections to the idea of breaking off negotiations with the Hak’issa clan and contacting the Beriad’u, even though he cannot possibly know that it is actually <em>Hux’s </em>plan. As usual, his objections are ridiculously petty, and boil down to what seems to be the main premise by which Huizing lives his life: <em>Doing anything costs something (risk, money, time, effort): not doing anything is ALWAYS a safer bet. </em></p><p>Hux wants to strangle him.</p><p>He types furiously into the direct messaging app on the datapad (which is restricted to Ren and his droids):</p><p>HUX: <em>WHY is this idiot in the meeting, Ren?</em></p><p>Ren glances at the datapad and types back:</p><p>REN: <em>He’s one of the few senior officers with experience in planetary diplomacy left.</em></p><p>HUX: <em>Diplomacy my arse. Following Pryde around the Core Worlds like a glorified toady doesn’t make you a negotiator or a diplomat.</em></p><p>Ren doesn’t type back, but only smiles slightly, amused.</p><p>On the screen, Huizing goes on: “… And of course, the exercise of prudence is paramount in such delicate matters, given that the balance of the <em>statu quo</em> as pertains to potential and current allies should be the main consideration, particularly in the wake of the, er, complicated events that have fortunately resulted in the situation that we are now in the process of consolidating, but which runs a serious risk of destabilisation should we not take the care to…”</p><p>Hux grinds his teeth in frustration. Ren <em>has </em>to be doing this on purpose. Under any other circumstances, he would have already hurled the pompous git against the far wall with the Force. Fuck, Ren had done that to <em>him </em>for much less.</p><p>And on and on Huizing goes. Even Mitaka, who usually has the patience of a saint and politely tries to pay attention to everything that is said, is starting to roll his eyes.</p><p>“… And, of course, our intervention in any capacity on Balmorra would pose the risk of triggering old tribal feuds and, perhaps I might go so far as to say, awaken the spectre of a civil war, which, as I am sure we will all agree, is to be avoided, particularly in the face of backward societies such as…”</p><p>HUX: <em>What the FUCK is he going on about? What tribal feuds? Balmorra is a cutting-edge technocratic society! It’s as stable as oil on a plate!</em></p><p>REN: <em>I think he’s referring to the biotech subclans the Beriad’u have entered into alliances with. </em></p><p>HUX: <em>A CLAN IS NOT A TRIBE. Balmorran society has a structure of clans and subclans along industry lines, like guilds. It has very little to do with bloodlines. </em></p><p>HUX: <em>AND a tribal society doesn’t always equate systemic warfare. As anyone with a minimum knowledge of anthropology knows.</em></p><p>HUX: <em>But for Huizing, anyone from outside the Core Worlds is a painted savage, of course.</em></p><p>HUX: <em>Including me.</em></p><p>HUX: <em>Arsehole. </em></p><p>Ren is now rubbing his face, trying to hide his smile.</p><p>HUX: <em>Ren, I swear, if this idiot goes on for any longer, I’ll go to the conference room and strangle him myself.</em></p><p>HUX: <em>It was bad enough when he almost fucked up the negotiations on Yavin because he thought the locals were backwoodsmen, and told them as much. It took us six months to get back on track – SIX MONTHS. </em></p><p>Finally, <em>finally, </em>Ren stands up and unceremoniously cuts Huizing off. “Colonel, the plan is not up for discussion,” he says sharply. “The goal of this meeting is to decide on the best way to implement it. We <em>will</em> be approaching the Beriad’u, who seem to be the best option now. If you can’t refrain from treating the Beriad’u as backwoodsmen, I’m sure a more… suitable position can be found for you.”</p><p>At this, Mitaka, who by now is doodling on his datapad, looks sharply up at Ren. Then quickly lowers his gaze again before Ren notices.  </p><p>“<em>Arsehole</em>,” mutters Hux one final time, smirking with satisfaction as the suddenly pale Colonel Huizing sinks back into his seat.</p><p>***</p><p>When the meeting is over, Captain Mitaka returns to the office he now shares with Thanisson. His shift on the bridge is about to start, but he needs to check something first.</p><p>He logs into the catering logistics subsystem, and makes the query. The retrieved information is displayed almost immediately.</p><p>He swallows.</p><p>***</p><p>The following day, Captain Mitaka finds an excuse to find himself on deck 4 at the right time. And indeed, right on cue, he sees the four Knights of Ren come down the corridor, headed towards the lift that will take them to their quarters.</p><p>He focuses on the new one, the slighter one. Who, as they wait for the lift to come, folds his arm across his back, ramrod-straight in a military parade stance.</p><p>Mitaka swallows, again.</p><p>***</p><p>The day after that, Captain Mitaka calls in a favour and swaps his shift with Thanisson, who is slightly concerned at Mitaka’s worried look.</p><p>“Sure, I’ll do it, no worries, but… is everything OK, Dopheld?”</p><p>“I’m not sure yet. I’ll let you know after the shift.”</p><p>He hurries to the Knights’ quarters, and starts to dawdle around, pretending to be engrossed in his datapad. He <em>really </em>hopes that the Knights don’t have outside cameras – the thought of being approached hostilely by those fearsome warriors is terrifying. But, apparently, nobody notices his presence.</p><p>About twenty minutes later, the door opens, and the Knights – as well as the other figure – start filing out.</p><p>Mitaka has positioned himself on the other side of the lift aisle, pretending to be on his way to the other end of the corridor. When the Knights approach, he stares directly at the slim stranger. Who holds his gaze for a second too long.</p><p>Mitaka lowers his head, and ducks into the toilets after the lift aisle.</p><p>As the Knights stop before the lift, Hux suddenly says: “Erm, boys, I, erm… I need to…” And points at the toilets behind them.</p><p>All four Knights turn silently to stare at him. As if he had said something unbelievable.</p><p>“You may not have bowels,” says Hux, with as much dignity as he can muster, “but I do. And nature calls. Now. With all the exercise…”</p><p>He makes to go into the toilet, but one of the Knights holds him back, and walks into the room first. Then allows Hux to go in.</p><p>Only one of the toilet stalls is shut. The Knight quickly inspects all the empty stalls and knocks on the locked one – getting an indignant ‘<em>Oy! Taken!’ </em>from Mitaka – and settles in the sink area, standing guard.</p><p>Hux shuts himself in the stall next to the locked one, which he has taken care to stand closest to. And immediately, something is slid over through the gap between the stall partition and the floor.</p><p>He hurriedly picks it up. A piece of paper, and a stylus. A message.</p><p>
  <em>Is it you? Are you all right? </em>
</p><p>Heart thumping in his throat, he writes below:</p><p>
  <em>Yes. How did you know?</em>
</p><p>He passes the paper and the stylus back, and makes a muffled noise. As if making a painful effort.</p><p>Mitaka writes back:</p><p>
  <em>Lord Ren used the word “backwoodsmen” – I’ve only ever heard you say it. And then I recognised the way you move. And saw that Lord Ren has been ordering food to his quarters when he’s not in. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>General, your troops are loyal to you – this is still your command.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>What do you want us to do?</em>
</p><p>Hux stares at the message. He writes, quickly:</p><p>
  <em>Not sure yet. Will find a way to keep in touch. Tell no-one yet. </em>
</p><p>If he still has supporters in the army, as Mitaka says, he doesn’t want any uprisings or attempts to free him before he knows exactly what the situation is. Whatever happens, he needs to be in control.</p><p>The answer comes back equally quickly:</p><p>
  <em>I managed to get hold of it when they came to take you away. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Please take care, General. </em>
</p><p>And this time, wrapped in the paper, Mitaka passes him something long and sharp, which Hux recognises at once.</p><p>His monomolecular blade.</p><p>He swallows the paper and quickly straps the blade to his forearm, concealing it with his sleeve. After making one final loud pushing noise, flushes and opens the stall door to face the waiting Knight.</p><p>“Sorry about that. I really need to eat more bran.”</p><p>***</p><p>When he gets back to Ren’s quarters, Hux hurries to the bedroom and takes the blade off, staring at it for a long moment.</p><p><em>Clever Mitaka. </em>“Backwoodsmen” is an Arkanis word meaning hicks, yokels, bumpkins – a reference to the inhabitants of the deep, dark forests outside the cities. Apparently, Lieutenant – no, <em>Captain</em> – Mitaka had been paying much more attention to the General than he had realised.</p><p>
  <em>Your troops are loyal to you. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>This is still your command. </em>
</p><p>He takes a deep breath, trying to quell the vertigo.</p><p>
  <em>What do you want us to do?</em>
</p><p>He hides the blade underneath his side of the mattress.</p><p>Unthinkingly, he goes to the bathroom, opens the tap. And stands in the hot shower until his fingertips wrinkle.</p><p>***</p><p>“No dinner tonight?”</p><p>Hux looks up from the military treatise. “Sorry. I’m not really hungry.”</p><p>Ren frowns slightly as he puts his things away. “Are you all right, General? If you’re pissed off about the meeting this morning, Huizing’s been transferred…”</p><p>Hux rubs the back of his neck. He looks exhausted. “No, no, I’m fine. Glad you got rid of Huizing, though. The man’s completely useless.”</p><p>“Okay.” Still watching him out of the corner of his eye, Ren gets some cheese and bread and eats them standing, washing them down with a glass of water. Hux is clearly upset, but it’s not immediately obvious what about.</p><p>He skims his thoughts lightly, and the image of Captain Mitaka quickly stands out, connected to a feeling of – unease, disturbance. Ambivalence.</p><p><em>Of course. </em>He saw him, and the other members of his team, in the meeting today. Unable to talk to them or even let them know that he’s alive. Remembering his former position, his former life. It's only normal that the General feels unsettled. </p><p>Ren finishes the cheese. “Have some tea with me, at least.”</p><p>***</p><p>Hux’s mood improves, later, when Ren tells him that his plan is officially on. As soon as he starts telling Hux about the implementation, the General, despite being clearly sleepy by now, demands that he be sent all the details, and starts thinking out loud about how to allocate the tasks, the information he needs to find, and all the other things that Ren finds so extremely tedious. (Although watching Hux get worked up about it despite his tiredness almost reconciles Ren with logistics.)</p><p>This had not been his plan for tonight, however. Ever since he sensed it, he’s been burning to get back into Hux’s head and find out who that bloody <em>Him</em> is. It’s a delicate matter, though – even as a mere background presence in a different memory, Ren could feel how heavy, how sensitive that specific psychic trace is in Hux’s mind. He wants to untangle, to unravel this, but he can’t just pull hard at the thread – he needs to go carefully about it.</p><p>After a while, he stands up. Hux, who was in the middle of a yawn, looks up at him: “What…?”</p><p>Ren cuts him off with a kiss. Sweet, and long, and deep.</p><p>Taking him by the hand, he leads Hux into the bedroom. The General’s exhausted mind feels so much softer than usual, and he passively allows himself to be kissed and fondled and caressed. Letting go.</p><p>As his memory of the Brethren made clear, when things get too much, the General finds solace in giving up control. And, to a certain extent, that is what he is doing now, letting Ren handle him. Laying Hux’s long body across the bed, Ren starts taking off his clothes, leaving a trail of kisses as he does so. Hux moans with soft pleasure, his cock stirring, struggling to keep his eyes open.</p><p>Which suits Ren just fine. He’ll tend to the General’s tired, needy body tonight. He has plenty of time to deal with his mind, tomorrow.  </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ok, so Ren finally gets to see what he wanted. Be careful what you want, because you may get it. </p><p>Please note the updated tags.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I want to talk to Mitaka,” he tells Ren the next morning. “You told me that my crew know I’m alive. That you – displayed me to them. To show them who is in charge now. Let me talk to them again.”</p><p>Ren glances at him over his coffee mug. “Why? Why do you want to talk to Mitaka?”</p><p>Hux looks down, chagrined. “I’m lonely, Ren. In case you hadn’t noticed.”</p><p>Ren puts down his mug as a pang of guilt seizes him. “You can talk to me.”</p><p>“You are holding me prisoner, Ren,” snarls Hux with sudden ferocity. “You read my thoughts whether I like it or not. You can decide to get rid of me any minute if you feel like it. You have this obsession with <em>trust</em> and <em>control</em> and <em>loyalty</em>, and I can’t do <em>anything</em> about it, to prove to you that you can let me out…”</p><p>“You can,” says Ren in a low voice. “You can do something.” A beat. “Show me who <em>He</em> was. Let me see it. And I’ll let you talk to Mitaka. And I will… consider changing your status.” <em>Depending on what I find, </em>he thinks, and doesn’t say.</p><p>Hux stares at him, dumbfounded. He doesn’t have to ask who Ren is referring to. “You… saw him?” he finally says, in an almost-whisper.</p><p>“I felt him. In the background of your memory. A presence, rather than anything overt.”</p><p>Hux rubs his face with his hand, suddenly feeling exhausted again. “Why, Ren? <em>It’s private. </em>Why can’t you leave me anything to myself?”</p><p><em>Because I want to own all of you. </em>“Because that person has left such a strong mark on your psyche. Because he’s shaped who you are now – your needs, your desires. Or rather, he provided the way in which you could first channel your needs and desires.” He looks at Hux in the eye. “I want to <em>know you, </em>General. I need you to be transparent to me. I need to see that.”</p><p>Hux is silent for a long, long time. Struggling with himself. Then, finally, he looks up at Ren. “You’ll allow me to talk to Mitaka?”</p><p>“Under supervision. But yes. I will. I promise.”</p><p>Hux takes a deep, shuddering breath. Resigned. Tired, so tired. “Very well, then. I’ll let you see.”</p><p>***</p><p>He’s back in the Academy, waiting to enter the huge, dark, cavernous amphitheatre where Strategy is taught. Such a misleadingly simple title. The class, which is mandatory for all cadets, is known as the Winnow – the most complex and demanding class in the entire syllabus, which cannot be taken twice.</p><p>85% of students fail it. Many of them, unable to deal with the shame, commit suicide. It’s a fact that the Academy boasts of, as a reflection of the rigorous nature of its course of study. <em>Blood on the darkwood </em>is its unofficial motto.</p><p>This year, the class will be taught by someone new, after the previous instructor, the terrifying old Admiral Sethius, retired. He is rumoured to be even worse than Sethius, and Hux had once witnessed a cadet wet himself while questioned in front of a class by Sethius.</p><p>When the doors open, he makes for an acceptable seat – not too close to the front, not too far at the back, on one side yet not too lateral, so that it won’t seem that he’s seeking the spotlight, but also that he’s not hiding.</p><p>The problem, of course, is that the new instructor already knows him. He’s a friend of his father’s – or an acquaintance, rather, as Brendol Hux can hardly be said to have actual <em>friends</em>. But he has been a regular guest at his father’s First Order dinners, this last year, after he came to Arkanis in one of the stages of his long semi-exile.</p><p>And, from what he has seen and heard, Hux seriously doubts that, contrary to Brendol’s expectations, the Director is one for nepotism.</p><p>He finds a good seat on the left half of the amphitheatre, and diligently places his datapad and stylus on the darkwood ledge that runs across the back of every row of seats. The rest of students quickly settle and quiet down – young people’s usual raucousness is very quickly beaten out of them, here – and the lights grow dim, with only the spot of light on the central dais remaining bright.</p><p>And then the Director steps onto the dais. And Hux’s breath catches for an instant at how utterly <em>authoritative </em>the man is.</p><p>He’s admired his work for a while now, of course, ever since he first found a pirated version of his paper on the holonet, when he was fourteen. It was a frank discussion of the structural and organisational flaws that had led to the Death Star disaster – which was all the more stunning in that Director Orson Krennic had been one of the officers in charge of building the Death Star (and one of the few who survived the disaster). The paper had been swiftly suppressed by the Imperial high command, of course, but Hux had secretly saved the illegal copy on his drive, despite being aware of the risks he incurred keeping it.</p><p>He admires the man’s brilliance, and his intellectual honesty. And, of course, his ability to survive. Young Armitage Hux has no illusions about the flawed nature of people – he had learnt, from a very young age, not to place too many expectations on anyone – but the Director is the closest thing to a hero he has.</p><p>His class, of course, is blindingly brilliant. At the end, Hux’s wrist is always sore from all the notes he has frantically taken, desperate to retain what to him seem all crucial, mind-blowing ideas, every single one a seed that might blossom into something that could help to make him…</p><p>He shakes his head. It’s ridiculous to expect that the Director’s words will change his life, will change the person he is. Will make him <em>someone, </em>finally.</p><p>But still. Strategy is only taught on Friday evenings, and it’s the highlight of his week. And, however many hours of sleep Strategy homework deprives him of, he would gladly take it every single day.</p><p>And then, suddenly, in the middle of his discussion of the Ithor campaign, the Director turns around and looks at him in the eye.</p><p>“Armitage Hux,” he says, in those deep, cultured tones that Hux can never hope to emulate. “What would you say was the flaw that led to the Empire’s defeat on Ithor?”</p><p>Hux feels how the blood instantly leaves his face and his mouth grows dry. The Director’s cold blue eyes are fixed on him. He forgets absolutely everything he has ever known.</p><p>He hears his own voice, ridiculous and weak: “The – the failure to consider the importance of religious taboo in Ithorian culture, sir?”</p><p>The Director looks at him in silence for a second. Then his mouth twists in a bored moue. “Is that really all you could come up with, Cadet Hux?” His eyes pierce Hux with their scorn. “<em>Trite.</em>”</p><p>Hux looks down as the shame scalds him, as the Director’s attention slides off him and moves on to the next, more promising option.</p><p>Worthless. Pointless. Idiot. Null.</p><p>
  <em>My father is right. </em>
</p><p>***</p><p>The toilets are empty. He stares at his reflection in the mirror – the thin, famished face, the deep purple circles under the eyes, the pasty skin. Not to mention that ridiculous hair, marking him out wherever he goes. <em>Utterly disgusting.</em></p><p>He rolls up his sleeves so as not to wet them, and splashes his face with cold water. But it’s no use.</p><p>He loathes himself with fierce intensity. He should have got it right, that time last year, but he was too useless even for that. It’s unbearable. Being himself is unbearable.</p><p>He slaps himself. Hard. Repeatedly. So hard that finally his face grows numb – a relief, not to feel – and a thin thread of blood trickles down from his nostril.</p><p>He looks up into the mirror, breathing hard –</p><p>And sees Director Krennick staring into his eyes from behind him, in the mirror.</p><p>He turns around, speechless. Waiting for - he's not sure what for, but it won't be good. It certainly won't be good.</p><p>But the Director just looks at him in silence for a long moment. Scrutinising him.</p><p>Then he comes up close to Hux – so close that Hux unwittingly takes a step back, and his back hits the marble edge of the sinks. Gently, the Director prises his hands from their grip on the marble, brings them forward. Turns his forearms upwards.</p><p>
  <em>He saw.</em>
</p><p><em>That’s it. </em>His father had managed to keep it hidden, but now the Director has caught him, and will report him, and he will be carted off and locked away for the rest of his life as the freak he is. He can hear what his fellow students, who already mock and shun him, will say – <em>no wonder, what a weirdo, there was always something very wrong with him…</em></p><p>The long, thin, angry scars that Hux always, always keeps covered under sleeves. Longitudinal, not transversal – it hadn’t been a cry for help, it was the only way he had seen to escape from his father once and for all. So he had done it the right way, the efficient way, the way that guaranteed death from blood loss in hardly any time.</p><p>However, Hux slept in what was essentially a storage room – even though the house was huge and had plenty of empty rooms, his father insisted that the bastard sleep in the servants’ quarters, to be reminded of his status at all times. And a housemaid picked precisely that moment to walk in and get fresh towels.</p><p>His father paid the doctor to stitch him up and say nothing, and to leave that out of Hux’s medical history. And, once the stitches were off, beat him up. He was sent off to the Academy after the holidays. And the matter was never spoken of again.</p><p>Director Krennick examines the scars in silence. Then looks up at Hux with those cold, steely eyes.</p><p>“Come to my study at eight.”</p><p>Then drops his wrists, turns, and leaves.</p><p>***</p><p>He knocks on the door.</p><p>“Come in.”</p><p>The Director is sitting at his desk, writing, but looks up as Hux enters the room. It’s dark and surprisingly warm – most of the Academy faculty have impersonal, almost clinical offices. The walls are lined with bookshelves, the desk is made of the local darkwood, and there’s an old, deep red, black and white carpet on the floor. A long, wine-dark chaiselongue stretches alongside one book-covered wall. There’s even a fire burning in the chimney – the Director must have insisted that it be opened again, despite its decadent connotations.</p><p>“Armitage Hux,” says Director Krennick, in his precise enunciation. He tilts his head. “It can’t be an easy name to carry.”</p><p>Hux looks down, red with shame. “I’m sorry about my mistake in class, sir. I should have been more prepared.”</p><p>The Director stands up, moving around the desk to lean against its front. Despite the late hour, he is still wearing one of his tailored grey suits, that reflects the steel in his eyes and hair. “The answer wasn’t wrong. It was correct. What I meant was that I expected more from <em>you</em>.”</p><p>“Because I’m a Hux?” <em>Not a real one.</em></p><p>“Because you’re far more intelligent and interesting than anyone else in this Academy.”</p><p>Hux stares at the Director in shock.</p><p>“Your scores are good, your performance is adequate, your assessments satisfactory. There is nothing wrong with you, outwardly. And yet you are foundering. You struggle every day. I can see it.”</p><p><strong>I </strong> <em>am wrong. </em></p><p>“Your father has given you his name only grudgingly, and resents your very existence. You could die tomorrow and nobody would more than shrug. You are unclaimed. Unrecognised. Unowned.”</p><p>Hux is trembling now. Why is Krennick saying these things? How can he…? What…?</p><p>“You need to serve a purpose,” goes on the Director, implacable. Merciless. “You need to belong. To be claimed.” He comes closer to Hux, and raises his chin with his hand. “I am claiming you, Armitage Hux. From now on, you belong to the First Order. Everything you do from now on will be solely to serve it. And <em>I</em> represent the First Order for you, here.” He stares down at Hux. “Take your clothes off.”</p><p>Hux’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t move.</p><p>“Take your clothes off,” repeats the Director, more softly this time. This is not a prurient thing, Hux realises. It’s got nothing to do with sex. It’s a challenge, a test. A line to cross, or not.</p><p>It doesn’t occur to him to refuse.</p><p>Slowly, hesitantly, Hux removes his uniform – the jacket, shirt, trousers, takes his boots off, until he is left in his underwear. When Krennic just keeps looking at him, he takes his briefs off too, and is left standing naked.</p><p>“Kneel.”</p><p>Hux does so. Looks down at the carpet, dizzy with vertigo, the black and red swirls dancing in his field of vision.</p><p>“This is what’s going to happen,” comes the Director’s calm, stern voice, from far, far above him. “During the day, every day, you are going to become the best student this Academy has ever seen. And every evening, you will come back here, to me. To be grounded. As soon as you cross that threshold, you will remove your clothes and you will lose your name, your personhood. You will only exist to serve your purpose. You will do everything I say, no hesitations and no questions. All you will have to do, here, is serve and obey. Do you understand?”</p><p>Hux nods. He is shaking so hard now.</p><p>“Your body and your mind, your entire self, are the property of the First Order now. You will not harm yourself again. You will not masturbate without permission. You will do nothing that is not approved by me first. Do you understand?”</p><p>Hux nods.</p><p>“Good.” Hux hears his steps retreating again behind the desk, the creak of the leather chair as he sits down. “Come here.”</p><p>Hux makes to stand, but the Director says: “No walking.”</p><p>He crawls. Around the table, towards his side. Looks up. Krennic is looking down at him with a small smile. He fondles his cheek, and Hux nuzzles against his hand. “Good boy.”</p><p>He gently guides Hux’s head to rest on his thigh, and runs his hand through his hair. Then picks up his stylus with his other hand, and starts writing again.</p><p>Hux closes his eyes. And finally, gratefully, forgets himself.</p><p>***</p><p>And so his new life begins. He quickly becomes the star of the Academy, working harder and better than ever before, but finding it effortless – something he no longer has to worry about or think about much. It’s just something he <em>does, </em>smoothly and efficiently, because the option of doing something else simply no longer exists. His scores skyrocket, his teachers are amazed, his fellow students resentful, his father doesn’t even acknowledge it. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. Because he’s being honed into the First Order’s finest weapon. And because every evening during the week, and most of the day during the weekends, he returns to the Director’s office.</p><p>It’s not even particularly sexual, most of the time. That’s not the point, and that’s not for him to decide. All he had to do was to decide to stop deciding, that first day, And he has already done that. He’s free. And he returns to that blissful freedom from choice every single time he crosses that threshold. Every time he enters that room, he’s safe in Director Krennic’s hands again.</p><p>Often, he’s just told to sit and <em>be </em>until required – empty, waiting, ready. Sometimes he’s allowed to rest his head on the Director’s thigh while he strokes his hair. Other times, he just kneels, staring at the wall, thinking of nothing but the sound of his own breath and of the Director’s warm presence behind him. His mind floating, tranquil. A tool waiting to be used.</p><p>Sometimes he is used. The Director stands in front of his desk and fucks his face where he kneels, and he eagerly swallows up every single drop of semen, grateful for the precious gift. Or he is told to lie down on the chaiselongue and take the older man in. He opens up, passive, docile, crying silent tears of relief as his emptiness is finally filled with the Director’s hot seed. When the Director allows it, he comes wildly, crying out in his arms.</p><p>Hardly any words are spoken. The Director gives him instructions, clear and brief, and sometimes praises him, and he shudders with joy and gratefulness. It’s all he wants, now, to deserve the Director’s praise. He says nothing. He is not required to.</p><p>***</p><p>The day of his graduation, his father is not there, but that is no surprise, and that man no longer has the power to hurt him. He doesn’t matter.</p><p>Director Krennic <em>is</em> there. He congratulates him, later, after he is given the once-in-a-generation award and his brand new uniform and he is told about his first, remarkable posting.</p><p>And then he goes to see him in his study, for the last time.</p><p>Two years later, Director Krennic dies on a shuttle vessel that is shot down by the Rebels at the outbreak of the open war.</p><p>***</p><p>It takes a while for Hux to realise that he’s back. His face is warm and wet with tears. Ren is looking at him as if he had just <em>seen</em> him for the first time – astonished, dumbfounded, concerned.</p><p>“Are you happy now??!” he cries, and slaps Ren’s hand away as he moves to comfort him. “Are you satisfied? Did you <em>see???</em>” He gets up and hurries out of the bedroom, blind. “Now <em>will you stay out of my mind???</em>”</p><p>Ren knows better than to follow. He remains where he is sitting up against the headboard, and rests his head against his updrawn knees. Wondering what he has just done.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Lots of angsty angst: or, watch Hux suffer.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Despite his reputation of being an icy, emotionally constipated man, General Hux has a very wide range of emotions, and Ren believes he has seen most of them: rage (plenty of that), aloofness, scorn, fear, pride; but also enthusiasm, sympathy (mostly for his crew), and, on rare occasions, fierce joy. He even believes that he has now seen also something new, a careful, shy tenderness.</p><p>What he has never witnessed before is a depressed Hux: and he’s astounded by how unsettling he finds it.</p><p>In the morning, he politely rebuffs the Knights when they come to pick him up for his training, and he just slumps in the sofa, staring at news holosites without really reading anything. Moreover, he doesn’t shower or bother to change from his pyjamas, and it’s probably the sight of the General neglecting his usually impeccable appearance that most rattles Ren.</p><p><em>You really, really fucked up, </em>says a harsh voice in his head. He blinks it away.</p><p>“I gave orders for Captain Mitaka to visit you. He will be coming in half and hour’s time or so.” Hopefully that will cheer him up? And make him see that yes, Ren <em>does </em>keep his promises? That he can trust him?</p><p>But Hux hardly lifts his eyes from the datapad screen. “Good. Thank you”, he replies in a dead voice.</p><p>Ren looks down, desperate for something to say that will snap Hux out of this, that will make him react. Anger would be infinitely preferable to this – extreme sadness.</p><p>“Could we have dinner tonight?” he asks, finally.</p><p>“As you wish.” A pause. “Am I required to cook it?”</p><p>“No. No, General. You are not required to cook.” And Ren turns to leave, a lump in his throat. Suddenly seized by an awful fear.</p><p>
  <em>Perhaps there is no coming back from this. </em>
</p><p>***</p><p>As soon as he hears the door slide close behind Ren’s back, Hux takes a deep, sobbing breath, and sinks his face in his arms, trying to calm himself.</p><p>He doesn’t think that Ren keeps cameras in his personal quarters, but he may have had them installed to keep Hux under surveillance. And in any case, such a powerful telepath, so attuned to him, would probably be able to overhear him, even from across the ship.</p><p>He won’t cry. He won’t give Ren that too.</p><p>So Ren is keeping his promise and letting him talk to Mitaka. He’ll be glad to see him, of course. But he can’t bring himself to, to –</p><p>
  <em>He’s mindfucked you and blackmailed his way into your most intimate thoughts. He wants you as his trained pet and fucktoy. He will always threaten to force you, always. He cannot be trusted. </em>
</p><p>Hux is a strategist. He thinks of the blade. He knows exactly what he needs to do, now, to win this war.</p><p>Even if the prospect of victory tastes as dead as ashes on his tongue.</p><p>***</p><p>When Mitaka arrives, he’s changed into something slightly more presentable – he doesn’t want to shock the poor man, forcing him to see his General in pyjamas. The Captain already looks intimidated enough, flanked by the two gigantic Knights; but he makes a valiant effort at impassivity as he steps into Ren’s quarters.</p><p>“Captain,” Hux greets him, standing from the table at which he’s taken a sit. “It’s so good to see you.”</p><p>Mitaka makes to shake the General’s hand, but one of the Knights stops him. “No touching,” he grunts. “You have five minutes.”</p><p>Hux nods. “Well, then, let’s try and make the most of it, shall we?” As he sits, he places one finger in the crook of his elbow, and is gratified to see the light of recognition flash for a brief second in Mitaka’s eyes.</p><p>It had been a running joke among Hux’s crew for years, the General’s obsession with forcing his closest staff to learn tactical and intelligence techniques now regarded as obsolete, and no longer part of the standard First Order training. However much any of them argued – and no-one really dared to argue with the General for long -, he always insisted that overreliance on technology was dangerous (as he knew full well, coming from a remote, backwater planet).</p><p>And that is why all the senior crew on the <em>Finalizer </em>know a dozen different types of codes that have not been used in any army for at least two hundred years.</p><p>The General and Mitaka both sit at the table, across from each other, so that the Knight who remained near the doorway can see them. They both prop one forearm on the table, not touching, like two friends casually blowing the breeze.</p><p>Which blocks the Knight’s view of a small area of the table. So that they can tap noiselessly with their other hand, unseen.</p><p>“Congratulations on your promotion, Captain. How’s everyone? Please tell me what I have missed,” Hux says aloud, as he taps:</p><p>
  <em>Am ok. Need you to tell my crew about me. Those who you think are loyal.</em>
</p><p>“Well, we have all been promoted. I’m sharing an office with Thanisson and…”</p><p>
  <em>We all are, sir. </em>
</p><p>Hux smiles at a joke that Mitaka makes.</p><p>
  <em>I need you to be ready to take control of communications and the stormtroopers. Is Unamo still in charge of comms?</em>
</p><p>Mitaka launches on a description of the new shipbuilding plans.</p><p>
  <em>Yes, sir. We can easily take over the troopers too. </em>
</p><p>“That sounds like a sound idea, certainly.”</p><p><em>Good. Then have Unamo cover comms, Thanisson the TIE fighters… </em>He goes on, tapping out the names of the officers and the key units he wants under control, the various details that emerge as he sees the plan deploying in his mind. A quick, ruthless coup, measured out in soft taps against a board. </p><p>“It was quite a relief, yes.” Mitaka nods, as he takes it all in. He has an excellent memory – Hux used to bring him to confidential meetings because of his ability to repeat what people had said verbatim, with no recording device.</p><p>
  <em>Got it, sir. </em>
</p><p>The Knight harrumphs. “Time’s up.”</p><p>“I look forward to seeing you all soon, hopefully.”</p><p>
  <em>Good. Now wait for my signal.</em>
</p><p>“We would all love to have you back, sir.”</p><p>
  <em>What signal, sir?</em>
</p><p>Hux’s smile shocks Mitaka. It’s not the sharp, cunning smile he would have expected. It’s profoundly sad.</p><p>
  <em>I will strike soon enough. You will know when.</em>
</p><p>The Knight grows impatient. “I said, time’s up.”</p><p>They both stand up, and Hux nods at Mitaka.</p><p>“Thank you for coming, Mitaka. Truly.”</p><p>“My pleasure, sir. Hopefully, we’ll meet again soon.”</p><p>Hux’s smile wavers. “I hope so too, Captain.”</p><p><br/>
***</p><p>“Well?”</p><p>The Knight who oversaw Hux’s and Mitaka’s conversation stands before Ren’s massive black desk. Reporting.</p><p>“They did use some sort of code, Master, as you suspected. Not one I’m familiar with, though. And I couldn’t scan their thoughts.”</p><p>Which is no surprise. The Knights use the Force like a blunt instrument, with brute force – they are for the most part incapable of the finesse required for mind reading, particularly in the case of more complex minds.</p><p>Not that it is very difficult to guess what Hux and Mitaka were talking about.</p><p>“I didn’t interrupt them, as you ordered. They don’t suspect I noticed, I don’t think.”</p><p>Ren steeples his fingers in front of his face. “Thank you, Ushar. That will be all.”</p><p>He closes his eyes when the door shuts behind the Knight. He had hoped, he had truly hoped, to be wrong.</p><p>
  <em>Snoke was right. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I need to crush my weakness. </em>
</p><p>And yet, there is still that emptiness in the pit of the stomach at the thought of it, just as when Snoke tortured him, trying to force Ren to relinquish Hux.</p><p>If he loses his weakness, what is left of him?<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>***</p><p><em>He’s been thinking about a blade. </em>His old monomolecular blade, if Ren is not mistaken.</p><p>
  <em>He fantasises about skewering me. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Not really surprising, after what I did to him.</em>
</p><p>Ren sips his wine, and looks up at Hux across the table. They are both silent as they eat.</p><p>“Did you love him?”</p><p>Hux looks up, surprised by Ren’s sudden outburst, then stiffens as the question hits him. He snorts. Of course, yesterday wasn’t enough. Nothing is ever enough for Ren.</p><p>“I don’t know if it could be called love. I hardly knew him at all. He knew me inside out, though.” He feels strangely detached, discussing like this something he had thought no one else would ever know about. And with Ren, of all people. “I was devoted to him, if that’s what you mean, yes. I would have died for him.”</p><p>Ren’s grip on his glass tightens, and he visibly swallows.</p><p>“That’s what you would want, isn’t it?” Hux presses on, scathing. “Blind devotion. Complete surrender. Well, I can’t give you that. I’m not that boy anymore, I’m afraid. I haven’t been in a long time.”</p><p>“I don’t want your devotion. I want you to know me, too,” says Ren in a low voice. Realising, as he says it, that it’s the truth. “I want your love.”</p><p>Hux stares at Ren, shocked. “I cannot claim to be an expert in the matter,” he says, tautly, when he finally finds his voice, “but it is my understanding that love is freely given. It cannot be forced. Like intimacy. Like trust.”</p><p>
  <em>Trust. </em>
</p><p>Ren is quiet for a long moment. “You are right. I forced you to give me something that should have been freely given.” He looks down. “I – wanted to understand you. To <em>know you.</em>” A pause. “I am sorry. I am truly sorry, Armitage.”</p><p>They look at each other in silence. Then Hux asks: “Why do you want me to love you, Ren?”</p><p>Ren smiles sadly. “Do you really have to ask, General?”</p><p>Hux finishes his wine. Then pours himself another glass, and downs it in one single swallow. The heat of the alcohol in his blood almost, <em>almost, </em>dulls the pain. This is awful. He needs to stop this, <em>now. </em>He needs to – “Will you fuck me, Ren?”</p><p>“No.” Ren looks up from his half-eaten food. “But you can fuck me, if you want.”<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>***</p><p>He pushes Ren, hard, so that he falls on his back onto the bed. They are both naked, now, already covered in bites and scratches. Hux climbs quickly, lithely, onto Ren’s bulky body, straddling his waist. He slaps him across the face, hard, twice.</p><p>It’s obvious that’s Ren is allowing him this as a way to ask for forgiveness for what he did. For pushing him. For <em>seeing.</em> <em>As if this was enough. </em></p><p>Nonetheless. He’s never been remotely interested in sexually dominating others; but for Ren, now, he’ll make an exception.</p><p>“I want to tie you down,” he says. Ren nods, gestures towards his nightstand. And the drawer starts to open as if of its own accord.</p><p>“<em>No Force,</em>” hisses Hux, and slaps him again.</p><p>The thing about having been on the receiving end for so long is that he has a fairly good idea of what to do now he is on the other side of the fence. He finds a set of cuffs similar to the ones he’s still wearing, the lengths of black rope that Ren used on him, and swiftly secures him by the wrists in the same way in which he, Hux, had been tethered down, that first day.</p><p>When he is done, he straightens to look down at Ren, his strong, muscular torso stretched beneath him, his powerful arms splayed out. Not that Ren couldn’t free himself in one second just by thinking of it.</p><p>
  <em>But perhaps I could just lean forward and slice his throat open before he had time to react. </em>
</p><p>He imagines it vividly, as he looks at Ren’s throat, bare and vulnerable – the slit, the seeping blood, Ren’s bulging eyes as he realises what Hux has done.</p><p>And then he looks up. Ren is gazing at him, calmly. Clearly knowing exactly what is crossing his mind.</p><p>“There are condoms in the drawer too,” he says.</p><p>
  <em>Right. </em>
</p><p>He takes out a foil package and a small lube dispenser, squeezes a dollop onto the palm of his hand, and give himself a couple of quick strokes. Ren is hard, and so is he, but only as a bodily reflex, the automatic response to a stimulus. He tears the foil open and slides the latex sheath over his cock.</p><p>“You don’t have to use lube if don’t want to, you know.”</p><p>Hux swallows in irritation. “Stop telling me what to do.” He squeezes some more lube onto the tips of his fingers, and gets angrier and angrier as he rims the delicate skin of Ren’s whorl. “You really think that if I hurt you badly enough everything will be all right?”</p><p>He slides his index into the tight anus, and Ren gasps. “You would be entitled to hurt me.”</p><p>“It doesn’t work like that, Ren.” He slides in the middle finger too.</p><p>Ren’s breath grows laboured. “So how does it work, General? How do I make amends?”</p><p>
  <em>I don’t know if you can.</em>
</p><p>Ren is ready and primed, open for him. He strokes his cock hard again, aligning it with the now-distended orifice. Carefully guides the tip in with his hand, feeling it slide wetly through the tightness…</p><p>He looks up at Ren, who has thrown his head back and is starting to moan, clutching the headboard. His eyes are closed, his Adam’s apple bobbing with his strained breath. Every tendon on his neck taut and stretched in eagerness. <em>Beautiful. </em></p><p>And withdraws.</p><p>He sits back on his knees, staring at nothing. Ren raises his head, aroused and baffled.</p><p>“I’m sorry. I can’t do it.”</p><p>He leans forward, quickly unties the bonds. And lets Ren go.</p><p>***</p><p>He sits at the edge of the bed, his back turned to Ren. He’s tired. So tired.</p><p>“Armitage…?”</p><p>Ren’s voice. Tentative, careful. Worried.</p><p>“Please leave me alone, Ren. I can’t… I can’t.”</p><p>The warmth of Ren’s hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right, Armitage. It’s all right.”</p><p>
  <em>No. Nothing’s all right. Nothing will ever be all right. </em>
</p><p>But he allows Ren to pull him back against his chest, into his arms.</p><p>
  <em>Why the hell did you have to mention love?</em>
</p><p>And then, to his utter horror, he starts crying: quiet, hopeless tears flowing unstoppably. For Director Krennic. For Mitaka and his crew, so ready to risk their lives for him. For himself. For Ren.</p><p>Ren says nothing; just brings his arms closer around him, rocking slightly, and holds him until he cries himself to sleep.</p><p>***</p><p>When he wakes up next morning, Ren is gone, and he’s alone in the huge, empty bed.</p><p>And then he remembers. And remembers the blade underneath the mattress.</p><p>He now knows he’s not going to kill Ren. For whatever reason, he can’t.</p><p>Ren loves him. Ren wants him to love him.</p><p>He isn’t even sure if he, Hux, knows what the word means. He just wants to stop hurting. To stop thinking.</p><p>The blade would be a way out, of course. Although poor Mitaka would be horrified if he used the weapon he had smuggled for him that way. He looks down at the inside of his forearms – the scars are hardly visible now, after he had them lasered, just a thin silver line along the vein that you only see if you know what to look for.</p><p>He thinks of Director Krennic. How he had given him purpose. <em>Become</em> his purpose. He told Ren the truth: he hadn’t really ever known the actual man. But he had done him the greatest kindness possible, then. He gave him the space, the freedom to surrender.</p><p>He has found other ways to surrender, since then. And when it wasn’t quite possible, he replaced it with the cruder, more physical alternatives: the harshness of whips and crops a substitute for the more intimate, mental grounding he truly craved.</p><p>He has wondered, sometimes, if it could be possible to surrender to someone <em>and </em>also know him. Be penetrated, possessed, owned by him; and also be inside <em>him</em>, too. Would that be what love is like, he wonders.</p><p>He has wished, secretly, that Ren –</p><p>Ren who loves him. Ren who wants Hux to love him.</p><p>Ren who can’t trust him. Who will hold him prisoner, shaking him to find what makes him tick until he breaks.</p><p>Perhaps the blade <em>is </em>the way out, after all.</p><p>His head hurts. His whole body hurts. He wraps himself in the comforter, shuts the world out, and falls asleep again.</p><p>***</p><p>“Sir? Sir.”</p><p>He turns, raising a defensive arm, working his way out of the cocoon of sheets he has created for himself in his sleep. And looks up blearily at the face that is looking down at him, taut with anxiety.</p><p>Mitaka.</p><p>
  <em>Mitaka?</em>
</p><p>He rubs his face, incredulous and more than a little embarrassed. “What on earth are you doing <em>here, </em>Captain?”</p><p>Mitaka looks even more embarrassed than him. He barely knows where to look. “General, sir, Lord Ren told me to come and help you get ready.”</p><p>“Get ready for <em>what</em>?”</p><p>“He thought you would want to take off those, er, cuffs and wear your uniform when you meet with the crew again.”</p><p>Hux stares at him. “What are you talking about, Mitaka?”</p><p>“Lord Ren announced your return this morning, sir.” The Captain smiles. “You’re free to leave these quarters.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mitaka has indeed brought him his General’s uniform and boots. He steps into it and looks at himself in the bathroom mirror – it’s perfectly ironed, every crease perfectly straight, the white shirt beneath stiffly starched, the buckle of the belt and the black leather of the boots polished to a shine. Mitaka has obviously taken pains to ensure that everything is up to the General’s strict standards.</p><p>He combs the familiar deep parting into his hair, slicking it aside with pomade (which, yes, Mitaka has also remembered to bring him). Then straightens up and looks at his reflection, feeling as if he has put on his armour again. <em>Yes. </em></p><p>As Mitaka waits for him by the doorway, he remembers. And hesitates for a moment.</p><p>Then goes back into the bedroom, slides the blade out from its hiding place beneath the mattress, and straps it to his right forearm. Precisely along the line of his old scar.</p><p>Then tugs his shirt and jacket sleeves back down – the blade is so extremely thin that it doesn’t show up in scanners, and, most importantly, it won’t be felt even if Ren grips him. He feels better now. Armed.</p><p>***</p><p>All eyes turn to him as he strides down the corridors, widening in surprise, and not, it seems to him, with fear but with relief – those with swifter reflexes saluting him as he passes. “<em>General… General…</em>” Happy, it seems, to see him again.</p><p>He smiles to himself, pleasantly surprised. <em>They missed me. </em></p><p>Ren has given orders for Hux to be led to his office first. When he gets there, two of his Knights are stepping out. He nods at them, a recognition of their brief, unplanned comradeship, and feels a brief pang at the thought that he may never train with them again. He had liked it. Had liked them, even.</p><p>“Lord Ren.”</p><p>He steps into the room. Ren is standing at the long window that runs along the main wall to wrap around the rounded corner, staring at the dark expanse of space outside.  He turns to look at Hux, unsmiling. Sad, it seems to Hux, for a second, to see the him back in his uniform.</p><p>“General. Are you feeling better today?”</p><p>Hux squares his jaw and folds his arms behind him in parade stance. The soldier again. “Yes, thank you, Lord Ren. Captain Mitaka told me that I am to return to my duties?”</p><p>“If you wish.”</p><p>Hux blinks, perplexed. <em>I have options? What is he saying? </em>“I’m afraid I don’t quite follow.”</p><p>“Do you know the story of the scorpion and the frog?”</p><p>Hux’s eyes narrow. “And who would be the scorpion in the story?”</p><p>“I was hoping it would be two frogs in the story this time,” smiles Ren, rueful.</p><p>Hux raises his eyebrows. “There were plenty of batrachian species on my home world. Frogs are remarkably ugly.”</p><p>“Some of them improve when kissed, apparently.”</p><p>Hux stares at him. <em>Is he really saying…?</em> “In fairy tales.”</p><p>“Of course. In fairy tales.” Ren looks down at the papers on his desk, and sits on the edge. Looks up at Hux again. “You are free to do whatever you want, General.”</p><p>
  <em>What? </em>
</p><p>“What? I mean…”</p><p>Ren smiles slightly. “You can take up your post again. You can retire. You can take a shuttle and leave. You are free to go if you wish, Armitage. I won’t stop you.”</p><p>“I… see.” But he doesn’t. Ren is letting him go – just like that? He’s stunned, and relieved, and disbelieving, and – somewhere, also, there’s a pang of… disappointment?</p><p>“As you said,” goes on Ren. “Some things cannot be taken. They must be freely given. Like trust. I still want your trust, General. But it’s entirely for you to decide to give it to me. I can’t coerce you. Not if I want the real thing.”</p><p>“I understand,” murmurs Hux, staring at the tips of his boots. But he doesn’t, not really. “I may not be able to give it. Ever.” He is silent for a moment. “I don’t know if I am capable of what you want at all, Ren.”</p><p>Ren nods, sadly. “I know.” He looks away. “I wish things had been different. Snoke. The war. All this.”</p><p>Hux bites his lip, an unexpected lump in his throat. “All the way back to our childhoods, yes.”</p><p>“Perhaps it’s just our nature. Like the scorpion. And there’s only one possible outcome.”</p><p>They look at each other in a long, burning silence, holding each other’s gazes. Then finally Ren looks down. “You can take some time to think about it, if you wish. I would like to ask something of you, though. In your capacity as General.”</p><p>Hux takes a deep breath, straightens again. This is easier. “Yes?”</p><p>“While you were… out of play, the Aargonar Conclave sent an invitation, requesting that I, as the new galaxy leader, attend their New Year celebrations. As they put it, they wanted ‘the new envoy from the gods to bless us”, or something like that. They want me to take part in some kind of ritual.”</p><p>“They would,” mutters Hux. “I’ve been there. Aargonar is a theocracy. The priestly caste keep the entire planet in the dark ages, in poverty and ignorance, through superstition and a deranged insistence on ritual. They used to refer to the First Order as the Whorish Abomination.”</p><p>“Well, they wouldn’t be the first ones,” smiles Ren.</p><p>“No. But it was because when we took over, we put an end to the priestly privileges: they had been tithing the people for centuries, banning schooling for those who did not belong to the right clans – which was 98% of the population – and running regular heretic hunts whenever they felt that general discontent was rising. Oh, and any low-caste Aargonarian – adult or child – had the religious duty to sexually service any priest that commanded it, at any given time. Because, you know, religion.” Hux smirks. “That is, until we razed the Sanctum to the ground – that was their religious headquarters – and burnt all the relics and other rubbish. And removed all the then-members of the Conclave. Bloodily. That made them see reason for a while.”</p><p>“I see.” Ren rubs his chin. “Well, I’ve accepted. We’re going down there tomorrow – it’s on our route anyway. So it should be interesting, seeing how they have fared since the last time the Order paid them a visit.”</p><p>“<em>What?</em> Ren, you can’t go there. It’s a nest of religious lunatics.”</p><p>“Religious lunatics who have asked me to take part in their rites. You said it yourself. They have come to their senses. If we want the culture to gradually open up and become more moderate, to <em>progress, </em>it’s a good idea to show our good will. And that we are willing to turn a new page.”</p><p>“Ren, this is insanity. The only way to get those people to open up their culture is to get rid of the entire priestly caste – which is something I kept telling Snoke, and he never paid any attention. I have been there. I know what they are like. They are dangerous.”</p><p>“General, I have been trained in the Dark Side of the Force. I think I have some idea of what danger and evil are like,” smiles Ren. “I think I can deal.”</p><p>Hux’s jaw tightens. “Ren. As your General, I strongly advise against your visiting Aargonar in person.”</p><p>“What would you have me do, Hux? Rule the galaxy by locking myself away in a floating fortress, like Snoke did? That’s not going to be the way <em>I </em>rule. My subjects have asked to see me, to participate in something that is important to them, and I will<em> not</em> refuse them that.”</p><p>“What is this, a popularity contest? Are you really that insecure?” spits out Hux. “Ren, you are the Supreme Leader or whatever it is you decide to call yourself. You’re the head of the government. You can’t go down there. It’s far too risky. If anything, let someone else go on your behalf. I can go myself, if need be.”</p><p>“Ah.” Ren narrows his eyes. “So that is what you have in mind, General? Replacing me? <em>So soon</em>?”</p><p>Hux is suddenly overcome with such fury that it’s like an explosion in his chest, a blast of heat from a furnace. He wants to <em>hurt</em> Ren, very badly, right now. He closes his eyes, gets hold of himself, and opens them again. <em>So much for trust. </em></p><p>Ren moves behind the desk, leans his arms on the board, and leaves through some documents. “As I said. We’ll be going down there tomorrow, and I expect you to come with me as someone who has had experience with Aargonar in the past. I’ll have Mitaka send you the details later.”</p><p>“As you wish.” Ice-cold. “Will that be all?”</p><p>“Yes, General. You may leave.”</p><p>Hux nods curtly, then turns and leaves.</p><p>Ren looks up from his papers, his gaze following the General as he walks away. Sick with longing, with the urge to run after him.</p><p>And wonders what the hell he is going to do when the General betrays him.</p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Their shuttle to Aargonar is scheduled early in the morning, so as to reach the capital by noon – apparently, the priests have requested that Ren take part in some ceremony that can only be held when the planet’s orange sun is at its highest on the first day of their year.</p><p>Hux has refused to wear anything other than his usual uniform, but Ren is dressed in a more elegant version of his black on black ensemble: the clothes are heavier, richer, woven with silver brocades of heraldic figures. His Knights, however, are clad in their everyday battle-worn accoutrements. The message seems clear: <em>I’m humouring you, taking part in your little rituals, but don’t forget for a minute who wields power here. </em></p><p><em>Very like Ren, </em>thinks Hux.</p><p>As they settle down for the flight, Hux sits in his assigned seat, across from Ren.</p><p>“I made my decision,” he tells Ren. “This will be my last duty as General.”</p><p>Ren looks up, stricken. Looking terribly vulnerable for a second. Then his face becomes impassive again. He nods. And says nothing for the rest of the trip.</p><p>***</p><p>They touch down right on schedule. The vessel door opens, and they stand in the odd tawny light, facing the cheering crowds. Cheering, not cheery, Hux notes, as they wait to be approached by the welcoming dignitaries – the people look mostly hungry and miserable and afraid, their cries forced, as if they have been unwillingly corralled into being here as supporting extras. Which Hux has no doubt has been the case. <em>Not much change, then. </em></p><p>Three priests – Hux recognises their crimson and cerulean ceremonial attire – come up to Ren, bend as low as seems humanly possible, and welcome the new envoy of the gods. Hux thinks he can detect an undercurrent of sarcasm in their oily speech; but Ren seems to take it at face value, and thanks them politely, and tells them he’s glad to be there.</p><p>The sun is climbing fast towards its apex. The schedule is, Ren first will go to the nearby temple to take part in the New Year ritual, and then they will be taken to the Sanctum – or whatever they have built in its place – for a welcome banquet. Hux has already sent troopers in advance to clear the Sanctum of any potential bombs or attackers.</p><p>They reach the temple, a sandstone structure standing at the top of a long, steep flight of steps. When Hux gestures for their squad of troopers to go ahead and inspect it, the high priest – a tall, dry, mantis-like man – raises his hands in protest.</p><p>“The Sun Temple is the most sacred shrine that remains to us!” he cries, glaring at Hux. “It cannot be defiled by weapons.”</p><p>“Lord Ren’s safety is to be ensured at all times,” replies Hux, brusquely. He really, really has no patience for these clowns. “If he cannot be protected, he will not be taking part in your ceremony, full stop. It’s up to you.”</p><p>The priests sputter in indignation, the troopers become agitated at the sudden unrest, Hux is starting to lose his cool despite himself and raising his voice – and then Ren steps in.</p><p>“General Hux is right. I must be protected. But I think my Knights will be sufficient protection.”</p><p>The high priest scowls.  “No weapons are allowed in the temple, my Lord.”</p><p>Ren smiles. “That’s fine. They will leave them at the entrance.” As if seven Force users faced with priests who haven’t done a day’s work in their lives needed weapons. “Will that be acceptable?”</p><p>The high priest smiles dryly. “It will, my Lord. We are grateful for your forbearance.”</p><p>Ren nods. “And of course, my General will be joining us too.”</p><p>The high priest eyes Hux – his lithe frame under the greatcoat – and smirks. “That won’t be a problem, my Lord.”</p><p>The Knights drop their weapons before the temple with a loud clatter, and the huge doors open to let them in. The temple is a tall, conic structure, a tapering tower, with an open oculus in the middle of the high ceiling through which the sun light will be pouring any moment now. There is an altar immediately beneath, a long oblong sandstone block intricately carved with bas-reliefs.</p><p>They enter the large, airy chamber, and the great doors boom shut behind them. They move further in, towards the altar, following the priests, their steps echoing.</p><p>There is a dark, doorless passageway on the other side of the altar, from which three hooded figures step out. They wear a different, more subdued version of the priests’ clothes, and Hux identifies them as acolytes. They bear empty bowls, one each, which they proceed to carefully place on the altar, genuflecting as they do so.</p><p>Hux frowns as he watches. He had been told that the ceremony was a sort of blessing for the New Year, with Ren consecrating something in some way – Hux had imagined seeds, or fruits, or something like that, the usual fertility rigmarole. But these bowls are all empty.</p><p>A low, metallic sound, like a horn, starts to drone from somewhere around them. The priests and acolytes start to chant in a language that Hux doesn’t recognise, and the high priest gestures for Ren to approach the altar.</p><p>Ren steps forward. The Knights close ranks around him, in a protective semi-circle. Hux, as is always his preference, moves to the side, away from the main action, observing. Not that the priests or the acolytes seem to be paying any attention to <em>him</em> – he’s there as an afterthought.</p><p>He looks up at the oculus. The sun is just starting to cross it, and a beam of orange light falls upon the altar. The empty bowls glow golden.  </p><p>And then the high priest looks up, his face transported in some sort of savage rapture. “Let the cleansing begin.”</p><p>
  <em>Cleansing?</em>
</p><p>He glances up at Ren. Who is suddenly looking very, very pale, and is clearly unsteady on his feet.</p><p>In fact, he realises, all the Knights are swaying on their feet too, as if extremely drunk or sea-sick.</p><p>Ren leans forward, gripping on to the altar, sweat trickling down his clammy brow. “<em>Ysalamiri,” </em>he gasps.</p><p><em>Ysalamiri: </em>the mysterious, lizard-like creatures that generate Force-free bubbles around them, so that Force users become lose their powers when they are near them. Hux has never seen one, but he has read about them – he found out as much as he could when he learnt that he was to work with Ren. But this isn’t a normal reaction: being in proximity to an ysalamir weakens a Force user, but does not make them incapacitated, merely Force-null.</p><p>Ren and his Knights seem completely helpless. Ren has collapsed over the altar, his legs no longer able to support him. The Knights are all lying on the floor, prostrated – they can’t even hold their heads up.</p><p>The high priest smirks maliciously, extracts a curved bronze blade from among the folds of his robe. “Let the cleansing begin. Let the blood of the sinners be spilt. Let the iniquity be purged.”</p><p>He grabs Ren by the forelock that is falling across his face and raises his head, baring his throat. Ren just looks passively back, hardly able to keep his eyes open, utterly weak. “Let the universe be purified,” intones the high priest, bringing one of the empty bowls close to Ren’s neck with his free hand.  </p><p>The two other priests and the acolytes bring similar blades to the high priests’ out of their clothes, and wing out, advancing towards the Knights.</p><p>And then the high priest seems to remember that Hux is still there. He smirks at him. Then, with a nod, sends the largest of the acolytes over to dispatch him.</p><p>The blade snaps out, as if it were part of Hux’s reflex system. And plunges into the advancing acolyte’s neck.</p><p>The scream and the jet of blood that shoots from his jugular, spattering the altar and the high priest, makes all the others look up in alarm.</p><p>Hux will never, later, be able to recall exactly how he did it: all he will recall is a violent blur, the blood and the shouts, feinting and twisting and bending among his enemies, a deadly whirlwind. It was not the threat against him that triggered it. It was seeing Ren, lying prone on an altar, deathly pale, defenceless, with that leering, grotesque creature looming over him, ready to spill his blood.</p><p>Something in him – something that has always been there – takes over.</p><p>What he will remember clearly is his savage joy when he stretches out his arm and slits the high priest’s throat, the wound gaping open like a second mouth for a grotesque instant before the blood starts gushing out and the priest fall backwards, mouthing on empty air like a fish out of which the hook has just been torn.</p><p>He fights the final acolyte over his fellow believers’ dead bodies, his berserk fury running quickly out. Desperate, he stabs the acolyte on the side, precisely enough to be certain that it’s a killing blow, and stumbles towards the great doors.</p><p>The dying acolyte staggers behind him, leaving a trail of blood.</p><p>With the last remains of his strength, he pushes the heavy doors open, and shouts for help at the troopers that are standing guard far below, at the foot of the stone steps.</p><p>They turn around, surprised. Only to see the red-headed man covered in blood and gore collapse on the flagstones before the temple doors, felled from behind.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The fable of the scorpion and the frog (from Wikipedia): </p><p>A scorpion, which cannot swim, asks a frog to carry it across a river on the frog's back. The frog hesitates, afraid of being stung by the scorpion, but the scorpion argues that if it did that, they would both drown. The frog considers this argument sensible and agrees to transport the scorpion. Midway across the river, the scorpion stings the frog anyway, dooming them both. The dying frog asks the scorpion why it stung the frog despite knowing the consequence, to which the scorpion replies: "I couldn't help it. It's in my nature."</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A short, transitional chapter today.</p><p>The next one will be the final chapter, and fairly long, I think. I may take a few days writing it - just letting you know so you don't worry, if you have been following so far. I really want to get the ending right.</p><p>(This is basically a polite way of saying: DON'T FREAK OUT. I'M FINISHING IT. SOON, NOT NEXT YEAR. I PROMISE).</p><p>Thanks, as always, for everyone's support.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He’s in the Director’s study, again. He’s kneeling on the floor, in his new officer’s uniform, head bowed. A vassal warrior before his liege.</p><p>The Director is leaving. He is leaving.</p><p>He had always known this would have end.</p><p>
  <em>I don’t want to go.</em>
</p><p>It’s not clear if he has thought it or said it out loud. In any case, the Director looks up from his writing, and smiles at him. Gently, like that first time. “Come here.”</p><p>Again, he crawls around the dark desk, his trousers rustling softly against the wool of the carpet. And looks up, into his pale grey eyes – no longer steely, but lighter, like passing clouds.</p><p>“The First Order is proud of you,” says the Director. “<em>I </em>am proud of you.”</p><p>The boy – the General – tosses his hot face in distress. The cool hand cups his cheek, feeling his temperature. Fingers comb through his hair, soothing.</p><p>The medical droid injects the contents of a vial into the bag at the end of the line in the delirious man’s arm, and after a few seconds the General falls into a mercifully dreamless sleep.</p><p>“He won’t awake until tomorrow,” the droid tells the man sitting at the bedside.</p><p>“That’s fine,” says Ren. “I’ll wait.”</p><p>***</p><p>And he is there when Hux opens his eyes. Watching intently, concerned, as the General blinks, disoriented, trying to find his bearings through the heavy weight of his exhaustion.</p><p>He turns, see Ren. “You… are alive,” he croaks. Relieved. “The Knights?”</p><p>“All alive and well. Thanks to you.” He smiles. "That was... quite something, what you did there."</p><p>“What happened?”</p><p>“That last acolyte managed to stab you in the back before he kicked the bucket. Pierced your lung. You’ll be fine, although you may be sore for a while.”</p><p>“No, but you, and the Knights – what…?”</p><p>“That altar. It was hollowed out. And full of ysalamiri. The troopers found more than two dozen inside. We knew that being close to an ysalamir cuts Force users off from the Force. But turns out, if you put lots of them in a small space, the effect is much stronger – it will also affect a Force user’s <em>normal </em>functions. As you saw.”</p><p>Hux’s eyes widen in disbelief. Ysalamiri are among the rarest creatures in the galaxy, and one of them is worth a king’s ransom. (He knows – he had tried to buy one, back in the day). The cost of two dozen would have been unimaginable.</p><p>“The priests had been milking the people dry with taxes and forced labour since the last time you were there to pay for the critters, yes. A significant part of the planetary budget,” confirms Ren. “They were obsessed with wiping the leader of the First Order off the face of the universe.” He smiles wryly. “Come on, spit it out. You earned it.”</p><p>Hux grimaces. “<em>I told you so.</em>”</p><p>“You did.” Ren leans forward in his chair, his tiredness showing, and Hux realises that he must have been sleeping there. “The blade… I felt you thinking about it, thought you were imagining. But it was real. You could have used it at any time.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“And you didn’t.”</p><p>“You still have that talent for stating the obvious, I see.”</p><p>Ren is silent for a moment. Then asks: “Mitaka?”</p><p>“Yes. Don’t punish him. Please. He was just being loyal.”</p><p>Ren expression hardens, then relaxes again as he gazes at the General. “I know. But mostly I won’t kill him because it would upset you so much.” A beat. “I know you were plotting with him, General. A coup, aided and abetted by the rest of your crew, I assume.”</p><p>Hux freezes. “You knew all along?”</p><p>A nod. “Ushar noticed that you were exchanging coded messages. Your body language – he’s very good at that sort of thing. It didn’t take a leap of imagination.”</p><p>Hux considers. “You thought I would betray you.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“And yet you let me go free?”</p><p>Ren rests his elbows on his knees, lowers his head, staring at the space between his feet. Then looks up again, at Hux. Who is shocked by how vulnerable he suddenly looks.</p><p>“What else could I do, Armitage?” He stares at his hands. “I wouldn’t have allowed you to cut my throat, mind. But I knew that I could never bring myself to harm you.”</p><p>Hux coughs. “So – what would you have done if I had tried anything?”</p><p>“Banished you, probably?” shrugs Ren. “Sent you to some godforsaken planet to live out your life in exile. And spent the rest of my own life in misery, yearning for you.”</p><p>Hux stares at him, disbelieving. Stunned.</p><p>Then Ren smiles a sudden, twisted smile. “Come to think of it, I would have probably paid you a visit now and then. Just for the hate fuck.”</p><p>Hux snorts out a laugh, and pain sears through him as his flank seizes up. “<em>Fuck</em>.” He lies still, panting, until the pain subsides. “What now, Ren?”</p><p>“Now you rest and heal. And then – well, the situation’s still the same.” Ren looks aside. “What you said on the shuttle – if you still feel that way, I won’t stop you. It’s up to you.” He turns and holds Hux’s gaze. “What do you want to do, General?”</p><p>
  <em>What do I want to do?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>What do I <strong>want</strong>? </em>
</p><p>The very word “want” seems to have lost its meaning, becoming alien, odd as he turns it over in his mind. Before all this, he would have said that he wanted power, he wanted to be Grand Marshal, he wanted to change the galaxy. Everything the First Order had taught him he should want. What had enabled him to survive, to fight his way this far.</p><p>“I need some time,” he murmurs. “To think. To get my head straight.”</p><p>He’s tired of fighting. He’s tired of just <em>surviving.</em></p><p>Ren nods, valiantly smothering hope, and Hux’s eyelids flicker and drop as exhaustion engulfs him.</p><p>Ren stays on for a while, watching as the General’s breath slows down and steadies, and he slips into a deep sleep again. Then he rises and quietly moves towards the door. Turns to take one last look.</p><p>
  <em>I don’t want you to go.</em>
</p><p>***</p><p>When he wakes again, Ren is gone. Not just from his room, but from the ship entirely, according to Captain Mitaka. “He…. he has put me in charge, sir. Until you recover.”</p><p>“But <em>where is he gone</em>?”</p><p>Mitaka shrugs helplessly. “He took his own fighter, sir. Disabled the tracker. We have no way to know where he went.”</p><p>“But didn’t he say <em>anything?</em>”</p><p>“He just said to tell you he would be back, sir.”</p><p>***</p><p>A few days later, the General is back in his uniform, standing in his usual position on the bridge. He’s just there for a few hours, and sits for most of the time, but he’s back. He’s back in command.</p><p>It should feel right, and in many ways it does. He’s glad to see his crew again, glad to see that they are relieved to have him back (from what Mitaka tells him, most of them were terrified at the prospect of having to deal with Ren directly). They seem even pleased.</p><p>And yet he’s stalled. The Supreme Leader, or whatever he is (Ren <em>really </em>needs to sort that out soon, it’s ridiculous he doesn’t have an official title yet) has disappeared, and it’s up to him, Hux, to cover for him. Not that the First Order isn’t used to Kylo Ren’s mood swings. Although he realises, much to his perplexity, that he would much rather deal with Ren’s behaviour in person, however unbearable it might be, than with this… absence.</p><p>So he puts out a story about Ren having gone on a search for some random mystical artifact, because he <em>has </em>pulled stunts like that before, and takes advantage of this lull to get the ship in order, finally deal with all the administrative and logistics backlog, and in general do all the regular maintenance that dealing with Snoke’s and Ren’s dramatics had hardly left him any time for.</p><p>He once again takes up training with the Knights of Ren, who, much to his bafflement, have started referring to him as “Seven”. When he finally works up the courage to ask Vicrul about this, the Knight shrugs and says: “Well, there used to be six of us. Now there’s seven.”</p><p>And Hux almost falls off his chair when he understands.</p><p>He sleeps a lot, when he’s off-duty – it’s as if his body were finally catching up with years of insomnia – and he reads, and he listens to music. He even starts cooking again, in the evening, in the kitchen in his quarters which used to be as pristine and unused as Ren’s.</p><p>He takes to asking Mitaka and Thanisson and Unamo and other officers over for dinner, eventually, because he has to do something with all that food, and because cooking for others feels far more satisfying. It's civilised, and pleasant, and he finds himself enjoying it. Laughing, even. He can't remember having laughed with his officers before, ever. </p><p>He’s surprised when he realises that he’s not worried about Ren. Because he said he would be back. And he believes it. He believes <em>him</em>, now.</p><p>He’s even more surprised when he realises that he misses him.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So here is the last chapter. Hope you enjoy it. To think that I started this out as an attempt at shameless smut - and then these two characters started talking and being difficult and complex and interesting and took over, and I have ended up writing a story about trust and loyalty and the difference between devotion and love and, yes, dominance and submission too. </p><p>Thank you to everyone who has followed on this unexpected journey - it's been a privilege, particularly at such a difficult time, to have such wonderful, supporting readers, who cared about the story and read it so well. It's not too much to say that this has kept me sane at times - for that, I'm in your debt. </p><p>Also, as terry012227 suggested, I may be writing something more about Hux's and Krennic's past relationship - Krennic is just too interesting a character not to make more use of him. I expect it would be a one-shot or a series of one-shots (but hey, this was also going to be a short smutfest, and here we are).</p><p>Thanks again to everyone. It's been a huge pleasure.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mitaka comes to tell him as he finishes training with the Knights.</p><p>“General,” he says, barely concealing his apprehension – or is it excitement? “Lord Ren is back.”</p><p>Ignoring the lurch in his stomach, he hurries back to his quarters, takes a quick shower, and dons his General’s uniform. Stares at himself in the mirror for a moment, debating whether to slick his hair back. Then decides he can’t be bothered, and rushes out.</p><p>Of course, he pretends he is busy doing… <em>whatever</em> when Ren strides onto the bridge.</p><p>“Lord Ren,” he greets him coolly. “How nice to see you. <em>At last.</em>”</p><p>“General,” nods Ren, looking him up and down. Obviously struck by the state of his hair. “I apologise for not having notified you of my departure sufficiently in advance. It has been, however, a very – <em>informative</em> trip.”</p><p>Hux raises his eyebrow. He’s aware of the crew watching both of them intently. Wondering – or rather worrying – which way it’s going to go.</p><p>“I would like to give you my report on it,” says Ren. “If this is a good time, that is.”</p><p>Hux stares at him. Is he actually being… <em>polite</em>? <em>Deferential</em>?</p><p>He looks around, sees the sea of goggle-eyed officers following their every move. It’s like being in a fucking zoo<em>. What the hell. </em></p><p>“My shift will be ending in fifteen minutes. We can talk then.”</p><p>“Good. In my quarters. I need a shower.”</p><p> He turns around, swishing that ridiculous cloak of his, and strides his way out again. Hux blinks for a second, Ren’s mention of a shower having suddenly sparked an image of his powerful, sweaty, dusty torso turning under the water jet…</p><p>“Right,” he calls out to the crew, commanding as ever. “Show’s over. Unamo, I need those calculations <em>now</em>, please.”</p><p>***</p><p>He steps warily into Ren’s quarters when he buzzes him, not really knowing what to expect. He hasn’t been back in these rooms since Ren released him, more than one month ago, and he’s overwhelmed for a second by the intense feeling of familiarity, like one feels when revisiting a place where one once lived.</p><p>Ren is sitting on the sofa, wearing his comfy grey slacks and tunic. He looks up when Hux walks in. And smiles.</p><p>“Armitage. You look good.”</p><p>Hux’s stomach clenches at that smile. Yes, he had missed him. “Ren.” He sits on a nearby armchair, stiffly. “You wanted to tell me about your – little adventure.”</p><p>“I apologise about leaving without telling you. I thought it was best that way.”</p><p>Hux can’t help himself. “<em>What was that about, Ren??</em> Why did you leave like that?”</p><p>“You said you needed time to think. I thought it would be easier if I wasn’t around,” replies Ren, quietly.</p><p><em>Oh. </em>“I… see,” says Hux, eventually.</p><p>“Also, I needed to figure out some things myself. There were all these trust and loyalty issues I needed to work out.” Ren leans forward, urgently. “I <em>wanted</em> you, Armitage. Very badly. And still do. But, as you said, devotion is not good enough. I wanted to <em>know </em>you. To understand you. And getting into your head without your permission is not acceptable. I understand that now. So I went to see the Brethren.”</p><p>Hux feels how his jaw, quite literally, drops. “<em>You did what??</em>”</p><p>Ren runs his fingers through his damp hair. “I felt I needed to learn more, if I wanted to be closer to you. You – surrender, sexually. But you are also able to command. You do that every day, on this ship – and it’s not as if you are exactly a doormat in your everyday life, as they now know in Aargonar. Whereas I’m very good at bossing people around, at manipulating. At bullying, even. But I’ve never submitted to anyone.”</p><p>“You submitted to Snoke,” points out Hux.</p><p>“Not really. I placed myself under him as his apprentice because I thought he would teach me what I needed, and he thought he could use my power to increase his own. We used each other, essentially. And we both knew that the Sith Rule of Two would come into play, at one point or another. Either I would kill him or he’d kill me. I was never devoted to him as you were to – to Krennic. Or sought his love. That was never the point. All I was interested in was power. I thought that was the only thing that would make me happy.”</p><p>Hux looks at him, and sees the child who was constantly reminded that he was difficult and dangerous, who was carefully managed as though he were some unstable explosive device, who was passed on to a series of people who didn’t quite know what do with him and not so secretly feared him. Whose own family tried to get rid of him. Who was lonely and frightened of himself and helpless to do anything about it all. No wonder he had thirsted so for power.</p><p>“So you went to the Brethren to – learn to submit?” The very thought makes Hux dizzy.</p><p>Ren nods. “I wanted to understand. To put myself in your shoes, see how it feels. The experience was, erm, somewhat unexpected.” He tilts his head, curious. “How did you find them? Krennic?”</p><p>Hux looks at the floor for a second, oddly embarrassed. “Yes.”</p><p>And remembers that last evening, when they had been standing in front of each other, afterwards, and the Director had put something in his shirt pocket. “They will help if you need this and there’s no one,” he had said. “Or if there is someone who wants do this for you, but doesn’t really know how to go about it.” Later he stared at the cream card embossed with the Brethren’s insignia and the weirdly specific instructions for contacting them, and carefully put it away. It had taken him two years to do so.</p><p>There had never been any <em>speaking¸ </em>all the times he had been with the Brethren. Just sinking into that blessed silence. Which makes him reluctant to even talk about it. And yet he is genuinely curious, now.</p><p>“What did they <em>do</em>?” he asks Ren.</p><p>***</p><p>Ren had finally found the door in the stone wall, in the old quarter of the desert town, and knocked. When the latticed opening had slid open, he had said the words: “I seek to serve”.</p><p>The door opened, and he was shown the way into a cool, shady stone courtyard, where the many plants and potted trees and the murmuring fountain at the centre offered a refuge against the savage heat outside. To his surprise, however, he had not been led further into the building, but his cloaked guide had gestured for him to wait there.  </p><p>He was soon met by a tall, dour robed man. “Welcome,” he said. “Please.” And had shown Ren the way to a small room inside the building.</p><p>“You say you seek to serve,” the man said.</p><p>“I do.”</p><p>“Everyone serves differently. Do you know what that means, for you?”</p><p>Ren was lost for words for a moment. He had expected something similar to what he had seen in Hux’s memories – being sexually used, repeatedly and intensively. Pain.</p><p>“What is it you seek, Lord Ren?”</p><p>Ren froze, shocked. “How…?”</p><p>“We have our ways of knowing. People come to us to find the freedom to satisfy certain very specific desires. And desire has a way of baring people’s souls.” The man glanced at Ren sharply. “What do you expect to find here?”</p><p>“I… care very much for someone who has come to you. I want to understand.”</p><p>“You can’t understand someone else if you don’t understand yourself first. You’d just be projecting yourself onto the other person.”</p><p>“I understand myself.”</p><p>The man smiled, a lopsided smirk. “Do you now.”</p><p>***</p><p>And he <em>had </em>been used. Just not quite in the ways he had expected. When the porter returned, he was taken to a small cell with a narrow bed, where he was told to leave his belongings. And then he was led to the kitchens.</p><p>“We lost our housekeeper last week,” said the porter. “You’ll have to cover for them while we find someone else.”</p><p>“<em>What</em>?”</p><p>“We need someone to manage the household,” the porter spelt out, as though Ren were slow. “Make sure that suppliers bring the food in, meals are cooked, rooms are cleaned, that sort of thing. You know, everything that needs to be done for a household to run smoothly.” She looked at Ren with a mischievous glint in her eye. “You <em>did </em>say you wanted to serve, right?”</p><p>And for three weeks, Ren had slowly and painfully learnt the minutiae of logistics, the nuances of people-wrangling. The first week was an utter disaster – he very soon learnt that the head cook had an even worse temper than him, and after a spectacular tantrum that awed even him, the Brethren were reduced to having bread and broth for lunch and dinner for two days. He had had to <em>beg </em>that woman to please come back and yes, he would never be rude to her again.</p><p>And then he started getting the hang of it. He settled disputes between squabbling cleaners, found discrepancies in the butcher’s bills (who had been overcharging by pretending that bacon and rashers were two different things), and learnt that there is a right and a wrong way of folding a corner when making a bed (he learnt because the head housemaid insisted that he make several beds himself and lie in them afterwards to feel the difference). He had even washed the dishes, one evening after the Brethren’s dinner, when the boy who usually did it fell sick.</p><p>He had seen absolutely nothing of a sexual nature during that time. It was almost as if he were working for an order of reclusive, grumpy monks who didn’t understand the efforts that went into keeping their monastery functioning. When he went to bed at night, he didn’t dream of orgies or whips or debauchery. He dreamt of checklists that somehow kept unticking themselves.</p><p>He was never, ever going to shout at a technician or a cleaner on his ship again, he decided, full of a new-found respect for the maintenance staff. Or mock Hux’s obsession with schedules and planning, which he had always seen as yet another expression of the man’s anal tendencies and inability to let go.</p><p>
  <em>Oh. Right. </em>
</p><p>He was entirely preoccupied with the monthly budget and whether he could get away with serving beet salad again or whether the monks would protest, fed up with so many root vegetables, when the dour man who had first met with him found him.</p><p>***</p><p>The woman was kneeling in the middle of the room, blindfolded and naked. Her breath shallow, her nipples hard. Ren could smell her nervousness and arousal from where he stood next to the wall farthest from her.</p><p>“She needs you,” whispered the dour man. “Go to her.”</p><p>Ren looked at him in alarm. “What…? What do you expect me to do?”</p><p>“Give her what she needs.”</p><p>Ren started at the naked, trembling woman, then back at the man. “I… do you want me to read her mind?” Because that would be violent and painful, particularly in the state she was in now.</p><p>“No. I want you to find out from her.”</p><p>Ren blinked, and hesitated for a second. And then took a careful step towards her. <em>What do you need? </em>he wondered.</p><p>The woman stiffened as she felt his approaching steps, and he felt impelled to put out his hand to reassure her, stroking her cheek as if calming down a skittish animal. She tensed at his touch for a moment, then relaxed into it.</p><p><em>Okay then. Now what? </em>He glanced at the man, who just raised his eyebrows and gestured with his chin for him to go on.</p><p>He crouched down in front of the woman and started to slowly caress her. She had a pleasantly full, curvy body, with ripe, pear-like breasts, large dark areolae, and a dark patch of hair between her legs. She felt… luscious. Edible.</p><p>He smiled to himself as he saw the goosebumps on her skin where he trailed his finger, felt the catch in her breath, the waft of musk hitting his face. He cupped one of her pendulous breasts, then brought his head down and forward, and leant to bring his lips to her bared neck. Her moan as he grazed his teeth against her skin was delicious.</p><p>With his other hand, he gently prised her thighs apart and felt her folds. She was sopping wet. Was he expected to…?</p><p>Inquiringly, he looked up at the man.</p><p>Who shook his head. And mouthed again: <em>Give her what she needs. </em></p><p><em>Give her what she needs. </em>He frowned as the woman trembled and moaned under his touch. He would have sworn that she was, well, gagging to be fucked. Experimentally, he slid his index between her folds, carefully teasing her clitoris with his thumb…</p><p>And she jerked sharply back, like a recoil spring. Snapping her thighs shut, pulling her head back away from him. She whimpered.</p><p>Feeling horribly helpless, Ren looked at the man for guidance. Nothing.</p><p>
  <em>Nobody said I couldn’t speak, did they? </em>
</p><p>“It’s all right. It’s all right,” he murmured, stroking the woman’s hair. She made a little sobbing noise, then settled down against his hand again. “Good girl. Good girl,” he soothed her.</p><p>There were low benches running along the bare walls of the room. He gently brought the woman’s hands to the floor, indicating that he wanted her on all fours, then led her towards one of the benches, and sat on it, situating her between his legs, kneeling again.</p><p>This time, he kissed her on the mouth, deeply. Her lips were thick and fleshy, delectably plump and soft. They parted willingly to his tongue, and she gasped with pleasure as he lightly bit her.</p><p>He brought his hand between her legs again, taking care not to go in, but just to rub, sliding his finger along her juice-coated, engorged vulva.</p><p>Again she pulled back sharply. And again he calmed her down with soft words and caresses.</p><p>This was maddening. The woman had been extremely aroused just a few moments ago, and was well on her way to getting there again. Hell, she had been on the verge of coming before, he was certain of that. What…?</p><p>He cursed mentally. This would all be so much easier if he could just use the Force and <em>see.</em></p><p>“What do you <em>want</em>?” he asked the woman. But she just moaned, shivering helplessly.</p><p>He felt a hand on his shoulder. The man had sat next to him, and was shaking his head slightly. “You’re crowding her,” he whispered into his ear, so that she wouldn’t hear. “Pushing her too much. You need to give her space.”</p><p>Space. Ren blinked, confused. Was he meant to stand up and move away or…?</p><p>But the man kept one hand on his shoulder, and with the other gently pushed the woman’s head down, so that it came to rest on Ren’s knee. He carded his fingers through her dark hair several times, then motioned for Ren to continue. “There.”</p><p>Ren sat back against the wall, running his hand through the woman’s hair. And did nothing. Waited, watching intently as she settled against his leg and her breath gradually slowed down.</p><p>His breath, he realised after a while, had slowed down to sync with hers.</p><p>Ren had meditated often in the past – it had been part of his training, first as a Jedi, then as part of whatever Snoke had tried to do with him, or to him. These days, after he had got rid of all that Light/Dark nonsense, he was able to access the Force much more easily, and didn’t really need to meditate to focus his power. But he recognised, then, the grounding, calming feeling, the feeling of being both inside and outside himself. Of <em>rightness. </em></p><p>He lost track of time. She was still extremely aroused, it was obvious, and so was he. But it wasn’t urgent or painful or unpleasant. Rather, it was like being carried on a powerful, steady wave at high sea. Which would eventually resolve itself and break, or gently ebb away – it was okay either way. But there was no hurry, no pressing need. For the first time he could remember, he was aroused, with no expectations, and enjoying it in itself.</p><p>The woman had a blissful look on her blindfolded face. Even without actively using the Force, he could sense that she was utterly open, utterly receptive now. Like a membrane, sensitive to the slightest touch.</p><p>Experimentally, he nudged his boot slightly forward. The woman sighed, and suddenly seemed more alert. Listening.</p><p>“Lick,” he said in a low voice.</p><p>A beat as the woman seemed to gather her wits. Then she raised her head, straightened, and knelt back on her haunches. Then gracefully brought her head down, spine curving, and touched her tongue to the tip of his boot.</p><p>Uncomfortably aware of his own erection – which he knew was not the point here <em>at all – </em>Ren watched as the woman kissed and licked the black leather, her moaning becoming louder and more continuous as she went. She was shaking again.</p><p>He watched her, mesmerised, as the arc of saliva hung between her lovely lower lip and the boot when she withdrew to move, catching the low light in the room. She looked completely lost to herself, lost in worship. Like a devoted pet.</p><p>“Look, now,” suddenly whispered the man next to him. “Do you see?”</p><p>And he saw. He <em>understood</em>.</p><p>He leant forward again. And, in a voice as close to a snarl as he could manage, said: “Good bitch.”</p><p>The woman moaned, a loud keen, as if he had pierced her. Her entire body tensed, mouth panting desperately, thighs clenching hard.</p><p>“<em>Come,</em>” he gasped, overwhelmed by her intensity.</p><p>And, untouched, she did.</p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Hux stares at him, wide-eyed in amazed disbelief.</p><p>“You <em>washed dishes?”</em></p><p>***</p><p>After a while, when Hux has somewhat – <em>somewhat – </em>digested his story, Ren gets up to make some coffee and tea.</p><p>“<em>You spent one month doing the Brethren’s household chores</em>?”</p><p>It makes Ren laugh, that this is the part that Hux finds hardest to wrap his mind around. “Organising and supervising them. And not <em>all </em>the time. But yes, now and then I had to roll up my sleeves and muck in.” He smiles, but is completely serious now. “Believe me, now I completely understand your bean-counting ways, General. And have the uttermost respect for you managing not to have gone insane, being in charge of a ship.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t be so sure about <em>that</em>…” mutters Hux. He looks at Ren. “So… no sex?”</p><p>“No sex. Other than helping to bring others off, that is.”</p><p>Hux sits back, pondering this. “Well,” he says, eventually. “Clearly the Brethren must have found me much more appealing than you.”</p><p>“Can’t blame them,” smiles Ren.</p><p>And they both laugh, Hux giddy with a sudden feeling of silliness, Ren relieved and just plain <em>happy </em>to be here, talking to the General again.</p><p>Ren hands Hux his mug of tea and settles down on the sofa with his own coffee. They drink in what, to Ren, feels like companionable silence. And then he says: “It may be to soon to ask this – I’m only just back – but I kept thinking about it all this time.” He looks up at Hux. “Do you know what you want to do, General?”</p><p>Hux takes a deep breath. He had wondered when the question would come. “It’s not entirely up to me, Ren,” he replies, carefully. “It also depends on –“ He gazes into his tea. “As you said, there’s the issue of trust.”</p><p>Ren sets his mug down on the arm of the sofa. “Armitage.” Hux raises his eyes at his tone. “I left the <em>Finalizer </em>on my own, with just a TIE fighter. Leaving you explicitly in charge of a crew that is loyal to you. I disappeared for a month. You could have easily taken over and claimed the throne. You wouldn’t even have had to stage a coup – you already have the support of the troops. You only had to say the word.” Ren’s gaze is soft as he looks at Hux. “You could have let me be killed in Aargonar. You could have overthrown me in my absence. And you didn’t. Of course I trust you. Completely.”</p><p>Hux is speechless for a second. Then realises he is choking up. He coughs. “You… placed yourself in my hands, too. You trusted me to wait for you.” He rubs his eyes with the back of a hand, embarrassed. “You trusted me.”</p><p>“And you waited for me. You held the fort for me. You didn’t seize power.”</p><p>“I don’t want power. Not – on my own, at least.”</p><p>“All my power is yours for the taking, Armitage. Whenever and however you want it,” says Ren. Swiftly, he rises from his seat, and kneels before Hux. “I can stand back and give you room to breathe. To grow. I can set the limits, the boundaries, and hold you tight. I can contain you and let you be and be there whenever you want me. I can be the space you need.” He looks at Hux in the eye. Burning. “Armitage – do you trust me?”</p><p>Hux looks down at his hands for a second. Then raises his head again, and steadily holds Ren’s gaze. “Yes. I trust you.”</p><p>Ren straightens up. Places his hands on either side of Hux’s jaw. And gently, gently, brings him down into a kiss.</p><p>Hux loses himself in the kiss, in Ren, who is kneeling below him, and loving him, and offering him everything he has. Who appears to be as his, he suddenly realises, as Hux has become Ren’s.</p><p>“<em>Take me</em>,” he whispers. And then, abruptly, realises, and breaks the kiss, but is still unable to look away from Ren’s liquid, darkly searing eyes. “No. Wait. I need to do this properly first.”</p><p>He makes the perplexed Ren sit again on the sofa, the tenting in his slacks as obvious as he imagines his own must be. Then kneels as Ren has just knelt before him.</p><p>He takes off his jacket and leaves it on the armchair, unbuttons his right cuff and carefully folds it back several times, up to the elbow. Revealing the monomolecular blade that lies flat and lethal against his forearm.</p><p>He undoes the straps, feeling Ren’s intense gaze following his every movement, not wary, but intrigued.</p><p>He detaches the blade from his forearm. And slowly, ceremoniously, lays it at Ren’s feet and returns to his position on one knee, head bowed. The knight giving obeisance to his lord. “My Imperial Master.”</p><p>We think of words, usually, as describing things, as naming the world: words as mere labels of things. But what we often don’t realise is that words, perhaps most powerfully, also <em>do </em>things: that saying is also always <em>doing</em>. And the world, and we in it, can be profoundly changed by the words we give others – when you name a child, when you declare someone guilty, when you say “I do.”</p><p>There will be time, later, for ceremonies and blazons, for titles and recognition and public announcements. But this, here, is the real, secret rite whereby Ren truly becomes Emperor, anointed by the words uttered by Hux, his sworn seventh knight. The knight who loves him.</p><p>Only one thing remains for the ritual to be completed, for liege and liegeman to become truly bound, for the lovers to conjoin.</p><p>No more words. Ren stands, imperious, picks Hux up, and carries him into the bedroom.</p><p>***</p><p>And slowly, gently, relentlessly, Ren finally takes possession of his lover, feeling as they roll on the bed that there are no more boundaries now. And as he moves back to give him his space, Hux writhes beneath him, leading, urging him, asking for more, eager and greedy and hungry. And when Ren enters him at last, piercing him in a smooth, fell sweep, he holds himself up on his forearms, holds himself back from the brink over which he knows he will imminently fall, and watches Armitage as all his defences, walls and towers and battlements, come tumbling down. As his General, his knight, his lover, cries out in pleasure, in triumph: free in the arms of his Master, in the arms of the man who is, forever, his to command.</p><p> </p>
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